Meta McGonagall and the Rise of the Dark Lord
by LisaT
Summary: How does an eleven year old cope with her first year at Hogwarts, being the Deputy Headmistress's much younger sister, and Voldemort's first rise? ON HIATUS, WILL BE UPDATED IN THE FUTURE.
1. Prologue

Disclaimers: The Potterverse and all associated characters, places, and objects belong to J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros.

I've been wanting to write a Minerva-centric story for a while, but my other attempt (Betwixt and Between) was going nowhere fast, partly, I think, because I am not yet confident in my ability to write a pure Minerva pov. Then I read Elspeth's Not All Scars Are Visible right here on and was intrigued by the character of Vesta McGonagall. I liked the idea of MM having a younger sister at Hogwarts who was a contemporary of the Marauders, and wanted to know more. Then I remembered the mysterious 'M. G. McGonagall' in the first HP film, and decided that the name would provide the basis for my story. In addition, I cut my fanfic teeth on writing school stories, and as an ex pupil of a boarding school myself, I believe I can write them with some effectiveness. I hope you agree, and that you enjoy, despite the near OCness of Meta McGonagall!

NB: This is not a shippy story, but there will (obviously) be plenty of ADMM interaction, although it's more likely to be canonical than not.

Finally, read and review. And I'm open to beta-offers.

(Gah. It won't let me format italics!!)

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Prologue

* * *

"Oh," said Professor Minerva McGonagall blankly. 

The Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry usually enjoyed checking the list of incoming students each year. It was interesting and exciting to identify the children of contemporaries, friends and enemies, and to speculate on the backgrounds of the less familiar names. She was less accustomed to finding her own surname amongst the 'M's.

She was roused from her reverie by the descent of a warm hand on her shoulder, and the sound of her employer's voice. "Minerva? What is it?"

She glanced up at him with her lips quirking in her version of a smile. "I'm sorry, Albus; I was a little distracted. Did you say something?"

The Headmaster smiled, his eyes twinkling behind their half-moon glasses. "Nothing of any consequence. I was simply being a nosy old man and wondering what it was about that list that had you sounding so startled. Raspberry drop?"

Minerva snorted and waved away the bag of hard blood-red sweets that Albus Dumbledore was wafting under her nose. "No, thank you. I prefer to keep my teeth in good order, even if you don't. No; there's nothing wrong as such, I was simply – startled – to see my own surname on this." She indicated the parchment.

Dumbledore's bushy eyebrows went up, and he attempted to speak through his mouthful of boiled sweet. His friend and deputy glared at him.

"Really, Albus, if you want to start a serious conversation, at least have the goodness to put that stuff away before you speak! Honestly, you'd think you'd have more sense at your age!"

With a final crack, Dumbledore succeeded in disposing of the offending sweet, and he smiled gently. "My dear Minerva, most of my life is now behind me. Would you begrudge an old man one of his few remaining pleasures?"

Minerva gave vent to another snort. "Don't you try to put me on a guilt trip, Albus Dumbledore. Poppy would agree with me and you know it. And as for being old, you'll outlive us all."

The Headmaster's eyes continued to twinkle, but he took the hint. "So who's our new McGonagall?" he queried in a conversational tone as he pocketed his precious sweets and returned to his seat.

Minerva's hands twisted around the ancient scroll. The sound of the parchment crackling in protest made her gasp and she replaced it carefully on the table in front of her. "It's my younger sister. My much younger half sister, rather. Her name is Meleta Gallia. Her mother – her mother was Rosa Mundin."

"Rosa Mundin? Wasn't she one of your Transfiguration stars during your first years here?"

Minerva grimaced. "She was. She wanted to train as an Animagus, and I was very naïve then, and made the mistake of bringing her home for intensive training the summer she finished school. My father, er - "

"Took a shine to her," Professor Dumbledore supplemented, his lips twitching with amusement.

McGonagall sent him a hard look. "It's not funny, Albus. How do you think I felt, finding myself with a stepmother who is almost young enough to be my daughter? When Meleta was born - " She threw her hands up and sighed. "Well, all this raking up of past history does no-one any good. Meleta's name is on the List and that's all there is to it."

"I wonder if she'll be in Gryffindor?"

Minerva paled. "Heavens, I hope not! I almost wish that Rosa could be convinced to allow the child to enter under 'Mundin', but I know better than to get into an argument with her over it. Honestly, Albus, you've never seen anything like the way she spoils that child!"

"A little spoiling does most children no harm, Minerva," Dumbledore said gently. "As for the other, your relationship would emerge eventually, and in the meantime there would be gossip. Do you really want that for yourself or the child?"

"I -. Of course not!"

"Well, then. You need not worry about being seen to 'have favourites'. Everyone knows how scrupulous you are, and if they know the truth about Meleta from the first, no-one will think anything of it if you do choose to spend some time with her."

Minerva's black brows contracted. "I doubt I shall," she confessed. "I am very busy, as you know, and in all honesty, I find it difficult to sustain an individual conversation with a child for long." She dropped her quill and began to pace. "Merlin knows I was never the most socially competent of people, even as a child myself."

"You give yourself too little credit, my dear. Regardless, I am looking forward to meeting Miss McGonagall the younger. I am sure it will bring back many fond memories."

Minerva humphed in response, but when she turned back to her list, she found that the idea of having her little sister at Hogwarts had become ... interesting rather than intimidating or embarrassing. Yes, interesting was the right word, she mused. The next year promised to be just that.


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter One

Meleta McGonagall was almost dancing with impatience as she followed her mother into King's Cross station. It was clear that Rosa McGonagall was putting all her concentration into steering the trolley laden with trunks and a crate holding a very unhappy and very locquacious silver tabby cat through crowds of Muggles, and consequently had little left over for Meleta's final barrage of questions.

"Why can't we just portkey to Hogwarts?" Meleta demanded as her mother directed a weak smile of apology towards an elderly Muggle lady armed with a vicious looking umbrella.

"I don't know, Meta, I don't know! How many times must I tell you? So sorry, sir."

"You went to Hogwarts yourself," Meta returned, a little sulkily. "Besides, hasn't Minerva been teaching there forever? Doesn't she know?"

Meleta - or Meta, as she preferred to be called - found herself pulled to one side, and she gawped at her mother, who was looking unwontedly serious.

"Now you listen to me, Meleta Gallia McGonagall. You're not to go pestering your sister, you hear? I can tell you, she won't appreciate it, and, more importantly, neither will the others. D' you _want_ to be labeled a teacher's pet almost at once?"

"No. I'm sorry, I just wanted to know." Meleta glanced anxiously up at her mother through dark lashes. "Would Minerva _really_ mind?"

Rosa shook her head. "She might. I don't know, Meta. You forget, I don't know her well, either."

"But she taught you Transfiguration!" Meta said loudly. "You told me so yourself!"

Rosa sighed. "Yes, she did, and to this day I still have to force myself to call her anything other than 'Professor McGonagall.'" She made a face. "Perhaps it's just as well we've seen so little of her since your father died. Can you imagine how awkward that would be? I'm nearly young enough to be her daughter, for Merlin's sake."

Meta's face fell. "Oh. It was just - well, I liked it that someone I knew was gonna be there, you know? I thought I could go to her if it was hard, or I was homesick, or - or - I just wanted you. You don't think I can do that?"

Rosa shook her head hard. "I really wouldn't, Meta. I understand how you feel, but just remember everyone else is in the same boat, and they won't be able to go running to their big sisters. Well, I suppose some of them will, but many won't, and _definitely _no-one else will have a sister who also happens to be the Transfiguration mistress, the Head of Gryffindor House, _and _Deputy Headmistress to boot!"

Meta sighed again, but this time it was in resignation. " I s'pose. Well, Minnie," she said, addressing herself to the still-yowling silver tabby, "it looks like it's just gonna be you and me."

Rosa McGonagall's face was somewhere between amusement and horror. "Meleta McGonagall, you didn't tell me you'd named that cat after your sister!"

Meta shrugged as her mother began to push the trolley again. "Didn't realise I had to. She reminded me of Minerva's cat-form, that's all. Minerva is such a pretty cat, and so's Minnie."

Her mother was still shaking her head. "H'mm. Well, come on, or we'll be late. It's already quarter to eleven, and the Hogwarts Express leaves at eleven sharp. We've still a way to go before we get to Platform Nine and Three Quarters." Rosa flashed a grin at her daughter, and Meleta returned it. She knew she was lucky to have such a young, fun mum.

"Are you ready to run the gauntlet of Muggles?" Rosa asked, her clear blue eyes twinkling.

"Muggles and all other comers!" Meta returned grandly. Mother and daughter shared another grin of understanding before together putting all their energies into getting to Platform Nine and Three Quarters, where Meta's new life awaited.

"That's everything in now, isn't it?" Rosa demanded as Meta oversaw Minnie's safe placement in a carriage. "I think we'd better say good-bye now, sweetheart, or the driver will be getting awfully impatient."

"Well, he'll just have to wait another moment later," Meta returned stoutly as she hopped off the train again and looked at her mother. "I want a proper good-bye before we go."

Rosa's eyes filled with tears. "Oh, Meta, I hope you have a marvellous time. Be good, be careful. If you have any problems, go to Minerva. If she makes a fuss, I'll deal with her." Meta saw her mother swipe at one eye. "Make lots of friends ... and I'll see you at Christmas."

"You be careful too, Mummy," Meta whispered, falling back to the old form of address. "I love you. I'm gonna miss you."

"Oh, sweetheart. Come here." Meta found herself being pulled into a tight embrace, and she returned it in full measure. Now that it was happening, it was real... and she was suddenly scared. A whole new life indeed.

"You need to go, honey," she heard her mother murmur. "Send me an owl as soon as they let you."

Meta drew back and nodded. "As soon as they let me," she echoed.

Rosa squeezed her hand, and Meta found herself being shepherded onto the train and into the carriage where her now-furiously spitting cat awaited. Before Meta felt totally ready, her mother was hugging her again, and the whistle blew and Rosa had to go... and then there was a burst of steam and the train began rolling away, out of King's Cross and out of London towards the unknown. Meta bit her lip hard and tried not to cry.

She curled into a tight ball in the corner of the seat against the window, and pulled her school robes over her for warmth. She longed to let Minnie out and to cuddle the cat for a while, but was too well acquainted with her cat's feisty temper to risk it. A fine way it would be to start school, running through the corridors like a mad thing after a runaway cat!

She was nearly asleep when she heard a timid voice say, "I say, you don't mind if we sit here, do you? Only - only, there doesn't seem to be anywhere else."

Meta opened her eyes reluctantly and found herself face to face with two boys and girl of her own age. The girl had dark red hair and bright green eyes, and the boy with black eyes and hair was standing very close to her. He was scowling. The other boy, who Meta liked on sight, was smaller than any of them and had brown hair, soft eyes, and a scared expression that roused Meta's protective instincts. Wordlessly, she gestured at the empty seats, and the redhead shot her a beaming smile.

"Well," said the redhead once they were all comfortably settled, "I suppose we should be polite and introduce ourselves."

"I'm Meta," the owner of the name offered before the redhead could go any further. "Who are you?"

"I'm Lily Evans," the redhead responded with another one of those bright smiles. "These are Sev and Remus."

"Sev-_er_-us," the black eyed boy corrected. "I've said before, Lily, I don't like being called 'Sev'. It's so - so _Muggle_." His lip curled at the last word.

Lily tossed her head and Meta found herself admiring the way the sun caught in the copper curls, which were so different from her own poker-straight black lengths. "Are you a Muggle?" she asked curiously of Lily. "I don't think I've met one before."

Severus snorted. "'Course she's not a Muggle. If she was, she wouldn't be here, would she? She's Muggle-born, though."

"Severus!" Lily protested, her pale skin flushed. "You promised. You said you wouldn't tell -"

Now it was Severus's turn to flush, and his black eyes dropped. "I know. I'm sorry, Lily. I didn't mean to. I won't do it again, promise."

"Even if we get sorted into different houses?" Lily pressed.

Severus held her eyes with his own, and Meta could see he was being sincere. "Even then, Lily."

"What do you mean, sorted?" the boy called Remus asked.

Meta, Severus and Lily turned identical horrified gazes on him.

"Don't you know - ?" Severus began, sounding scornful.

"Severus!" Lily said sternly at the same time that Meta said, "I bet you don't know everything either!" before turning to the hapless Remus.

"You don't know about the Sorting?"

Remus, who had shrunk against the back of the seat at Severus's response, relaxed. "No. I - I've been ill, you see, and they were more concerned about my health than answering my questions."

"Didn't your parents know?" Meta demanded in the voice of a girl who had many generations of Hogwarts students behind her.

"My parents didn't go to Hogwarts," Remus confessed. "They only know the basics."

"The Sorting is the basics!" Severus proclaimed loudly, his accent harsher than usual.

Meta glared at him before deliberately turning her back to him and concentrating on Remus. "Hogwarts has four houses," she began. "Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin. Your House is the most important about your time at Hoggie's, so before we do anything, we need to be Sorted into our houses."

"But - but, _how_?"

"The Hat," Severus and Meta said together before exchanging a further glare.

"But how does it work, exactly?" Lily asked.

Remus looked at her. "You don't know either!"

Lily smiled back. "I do know, kind of. Severus has explained, but it sounds so - so strange. I still don't understand it."

"What's to understand? They stick this really old hat on your head, and it reads your mind, and then decides where to put you."

Lily and Remus looked equally appalled.

"It can read my mind?" Remus echoed. Meta noted that he had turned an even whiter shade of pale.

"Got something to hide?" Severus sneered.

Remus hunched up defensively, and Meta threw an arm around him. "You leave him alone! He's allowed secrets if he wants them."

"He won't keep them for long, then," Severus retorted smartly. "Don't you know that Dumbledore is a Legilimens?"

"Sweets trolley," a voice called out. "Anyone want anything?"

Severus flushed and subsided, Meta noticed as she fished out her own purse and ordered a generous portion of Fuzzing Whizzbees and Chocolate Frogs. Lily, who had been half-way through trying to explain what a Mars Bar was, stopped and squeaked in surprise when one of the Frogs began to hop around the compartment.

"Do you want anything or not, missy?" the sweets-lady asked as Lily continued to watch the frogs.

"I - I'll have a dozen of them," she ordered. "And a packet - a packet of Every-Flavour Beans," she added. Meta saw her glance at Severus, and was not surprised when the other girl handed the Beans to the dark boy without comment. Meta herself did the same, offering her Fuzzing Whizzbees to Remus, who demurred but eventually succumbed to the lure of sugar.

Finally, they returned to the subject of the Sorting, but by then the infusion of sweetness had calmed their tempers, and even Severus was able to discuss this most important of ceremonies without being insulting. By the time that Remus and Lily had finished asking their questions, evening was falling and it was getting darker. One by one, they each drifted off to sleep, with Severus and Lily curling up together on one side whilst Meta and Remus did the same on the other.

"I hope we're all in the same house," Remus murmured after a while, when the soft sounds from the other two proclaimed their sleeping state. "Even Severus."

Meta chuckled quietly. "I know. It's nice to know people, isn't it?"

They exchanged a final smile before exhaustion and excitement claimed them.

The sound of whistles blowing and wheels screeching roused the four with a start.

"We must have arrived!" Lily exclaimed as she pressed her face to the window in an effort to see.

The others were too busy scrabbling their stuff together to heed her, and so Lily was the only one not ready when a tall blond boy with silvery-grey eyes appeared at the compartment and scowled.

"Aren't you brats ready yet?"

"We're coming now," Severus responded, returning the older boy's scowl with interest. "Aren't we, Lily?"

"Yes!" the redheaded girl gasped and stood up.

"Well, don't just stand there," the blonde one drawled. "I want my dinner, if you don't, and I won't be at all ... forgiving ... to anyone who makes me wait longer than necessary."

Meta and Lily looked at each other, and followed the boys out of the carriage and onto the platform without another word.

"He was horrible!" Lily gasped to Meta under the cover of noise and confusion. "I hope all of the older students aren't like that."

"Firs' years!" a voice bellowed over the crowd of milling, exclaiming students. "Firs' years, this way!"

Without a word, the two girls immediately began to make their way towards the source of the voice, but they clung tightly to each other's fingers all the while.

"What about our luggage?" Lily asked uneasily as they approached a hairy giant of a man, who was clearly the bellower.

"I think they'll bring it up to the castle for us," Meta whispered.

Lily nodded, and the two girls shuffled through the other first years until they were standing in front of the giant man, and next to Severus and a decidedly grey looking Remus.

The giantlike man beamed down at them. "Welcome to Hogwarts! I'm Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of the Keys here at Hogwarts. I'll be bringin' yeh all up ter the school. The others, as yeh can see, go up ter the castle in them carriages, but for the firs' years, we al'ays have sommat special. Come with me an' see."

Wordlessly, the new first years followed him... and then gave a concerted gasp. In front of them lay a lake that shimmered and gleamed in the moonlight, whilst beyond it could be seen a many turreted castle whose lights winked and blinked in greeting. Energised by the sight of their destination, the new students surged forward into the waiting boats, and they crossed the lake in silent contemplation of the castle, with only the odd exclamation or nervous giggle breaking the hush. Finally, the reached the other side in a slop of wood meeting land, and Hagrid led them up to the great front doors of the ancient castle.

Meta held her breath in wonder, excitement and fear. She knew what came next.

Sure enough, the massive double doors were flung back, and a tall, slim figure was silhouetted in the brightness of the hall behind her. Meta ran up the steps towards the figure, staying close to Hagrid all the while. When the big man stopped, he did so with such suddenness that only Lily's quick movement behind her prevented her from stumbling ... but then she was distracted by Hagrid's words:

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall."


	3. Chapter 2

Thank you to those who have reviewed! I hope you enjoy this next bit.

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As Minerva McGonagall launched into her usual speech of welcome for the first years, she did her best to ignore the dark haired child in front of her who was so curiously like and yet unlike the McGonagalls. Minerva had known she could not avoid coming face to face with her half sister at this time, but she certainly hadn't expected the girl to be close enough to touch whilst she spoke! It was with some relief, therefore, that she turned back into the entrance hall with the customary command for the children to stay where they were until they were called to come into the Great Hall for the Sorting.

All too soon, however, McGonagall had collected Hat, stool and her young charges, and was leading them down the middle of the Great Hall. Despite the knowledge that Meleta was directly behind her, Minerva found herself regaining her composure as she walked this most familiar walk. She came to a stop on the dais in front of the staff table, placed the stool in the centre and carefully set the hat on the stool, ready for the first candidate. Only then did the Deputy Headmistress turn back to face the assembled school, the swish of her heavy robes across the polished floor sounding strangely loud in the silent room as she moved.

With a flip and a shake, Minerva opened the scroll on which the new students names were inscribed, and eyed the owners of the names sternly over the top of her square spectacles.

"It is now time for you to be Sorted into your houses," she began impressively, the burr in her voice stronger than was its wont. "When I call your name, you will come forth, sit on the stool, and place the hat upon your head."

She paused for a moment and directed a second stern look at the children, who were clearly torn between amusement, fascinaton, and downright fear. A few of them nodded at her, and, taking that as a signal that they were ready, Minerva took a deep breath and began with "Bones, Edgar!".

As always, she paid close attention to where the children were Sorted, but even she could not help but raise an eyebrow when "Black, Sirius" was sorted into Gryffindor. The Blacks had been Slytherins for as long as anyone could remember, and the quick glance Minerva cast at Horace Slughorn told her that the Head of Slytherin shared her astonishment. The sorting of redheaded "Evans, Lily" into Gryffindor was less of a shock; Gryffindor always had the highest component of Muggleborns, coming second only to Hufflepuff. Minerva herself believed that this was because of the quality of bravery that characterised so many of the Muggleborns, most of whom had grown up with the belief that there was no such thing as magic in 'real life' as opposed to 'fairy tales'.

Nor was Minerva surprised to find that she would also now take charge of Remus Lupin, who'd been a victim of childhood lycanthropy. Only Dumbledore, Minerva herself, and Poppy Pomfrey (in her capacity of matron) knew that this most unusual student was a werewolf, and Minerva devoutly hoped it would stay that way. Again, there was no question of this boy's courage, she thought, as she noted the firm chin and steady gaze of this child who was so plainly terrified.

And now, at last, it was Meleta's turn, and Minerva had to take a deep breath to calm herself before calling "McGonagall, Meleta". She kept her attention focused on the girl in front of her, ignoring the rustle of sudden interest and speculation that ran through the school. Even the other first years looked surprised at Meleta's surname, Minerva noted. Evidently the child had not declared it.

Minerva shifted her weight slightly as the hat continued to ruminate on Meleta's fate. Minerva could not hear everything, but she could have sworn she heard the words 'Slytherin' and then 'Hufflepuff'...

Oh Merlin, let her be in Hufflepuff, Minerva prayed. Pomona Sprout could be depended on to look after the child.

But it was not to be. After further speculation (really, the Hat was being unusually talkative this year) it made up its mind, opened its ragged slit of a mouth, and roared "Gryffindor!"

Minerva noticed that Meleta's response seemed as mixed as her own, but she could give no further thought to either Meleta's emotions or her own, for it was time to move on to "Pettigrew, Peter". From there she continued down the list, until finally "Wilkes, John" had been sorted into Slytherin, and Minerva herself could return to her seat at Albus Dumbledore's right hand.

She was so busy watching Meleta amongst the Gryffindors that she gave only half an ear to the Sorting Hat's song (something about standing together) and the first half of Dumbledore's speech. At least Meleta and the Evans girl seem to be friendly, the mistress thought to herself. And there's the Lupin boy on her other side-

"- new addition to the grounds," Dumbledore said, his genial tone suddenly becoming serious as he finished his usual warnings about the Forbidden Forest and the caretaker's list of contraband.

His Deputy, knowing what he was about to say, roused herself from her reverie and prepared to glare warningly at various bright sparks in Gryffindor – of which she felt she had too many.

"- a Whomping Willow," the Headmaster said. "I must stress to you all that this is a very rare species of plant life, and also potentially a very dangerous one. It is not sentient; it responds to motion and acts on pure instinct. If you go too near, you _will be_ injured, if not killed. I hope that is perfectly clear and that Madam Pomfrey does not need to waste her precious time this year putting various foolhardy students back together again!"

The school laughed, but Minerva kept her gaze fixed sternly on her known troublemakers, and was obliquely amused by the fact that they were evidently refusing to meet her eyes. At least the Prewett twins are old enough to have gained some sense, she thought, glancing over at the identical boys sitting near the top of the Gryffindor table, their russet heads together as always. A cheer rose from the students and Minerva looked up, realizing that the Headmaster had finished, and the feast had begun.

"You're rather distracted this evening, my dear," Dumbledore murmured in her ear as he seated himself and settled his richly embroidered purple robes about him. "I'm sure you must have missed all the pearls of wisdom I was pouring before you."

Minerva sniffed. "Indeed. I assure you, Albus, I have no intention of venturing alone into the Forest, or smuggling forbidden items into the castle, and I know about the Willow situation as well as you do. Does that satisfy, or have I missed something?" She picked up her fork and speared her salmon with it.

Albus's eyes twinkled. "Ah, Minerva. Will I ever get the better of you?"

"I wasn't aware you were trying."

The Headmaster loaded his own fork and took a mouthful with evident pleasure. "I do like a challenge, my dear. Hmm. The elves have outdone themselves, have they not? I see, by the way, that we have a new young McGonagall lioncub after all."

"Yes. I thought for a moment she was going to be one of Pomona's," Minerva told him ruefully, "but evidently not. Sometimes, Albus, I could believe that the Sorting Hat has a grudge against me." She shook her head slightly.

Her old friend grinned at her, although admittedly the only visible indication was the movement of his cheeks. "Nonsense. The Hat simply knows, as we all do, that you are our resident goddess of wisdom, and thus best suited to dealing with rambunctious young people."

Minerva snorted. "Flattery will get you no-where, Headmaster, and I'll remind you of that the next time you want to know why my Gryffindors seem bound and determined to bring the castle down around our ears."

"Let us hope that Miss McGonagall will choose not to follow her predecessor's example in that respect," Albus said absently.

Minerva, who was sipping her wine, glanced at him – and then the full meaning of what he had said permeated her brain and she only – just – avoided spluttering. "Albus Dumbledore! I never did anything of the kind!"

"Didn't you? Maybe you didn't." Albus paused and thought for a moment. "I apologise, Minerva. I was confusing you with your great-aunt, also Minerva, who caused a sensation by setting fire to Gryffindor tower in her third year."

"I don't want to know," Minerva muttered, "and please, Albus, avoid saying anything of the sort in front of Meleta. I know you find the antics of our young lions amusing, but then, you no longer have to discipline them!"

"Not that I was ever such a tyrant as you are," he teased gently.

"I need to be, to counteract your indulgence! Haven't you heard of 'good cop, bad cop'?"

"A Muggle term, I imagine."

"You imagine correctly. I overheard one of the children explaining the concept to another last term. Generally speaking, it refers to a method of interrogation whereby one questioner takes a gentle approach whilst the other is … stricter. I thought it … most applicable."

"Indeed. So tell me, Professor, are you going to renew your acquaintance with Miss McGonagall this evening?"

Minerva sighed and put her fork down. "I don't know. I know I should," she went on quickly as Albus moved to speak, "but I find myself reluctant to do so. She cannot fail to have noticed how the school reacted to her name, and I do not wish to draw further attention to her so soon."

"I can understand that – and yet, it would do no harm for you to speak to her and give her some reassurance, which I am certain she is in much need of tonight. Indeed, I'm sure all of your new children would appreciate some kind words from their new Head of House."

Minerva looked at her friend sharply, but his eyes were fixed downward, on his plate. She frowned slightly. "I know Pomona and Filius do that," she admitted, "but I never have." She looked away in her own turn. "That social incompetence again, I fear."

"You are your own sternest critic, Minerva. You always have been. I agree, you lack Filius's ability to charm –"

"Thank you, Headmaster," Minerva said, drily.

" – and you certainly do not have Pomona's easy maternalism. What you do have, however, is your students trust and respect, and not only from the Gryffindors. If I am the barmy old coot, you, my dear, are our dispenser of wisdom and justice."

"Since neither wisdom nor justice is relevant in the present case, I don't see how that is helpful," Minerva snapped.

"Ah, but I think they are relevant. Wisdom dictates that children who start school feeling safe and secure settle in well and perform to their best ability, whilst it is only fair that your sister should be acknowledged before her fellow Gryffindors as your sister, both for her sake and yours."

Minerva twisted her napkin in an uncharacteristically nervous gesture. "I can't argue with that. Very well, I'll speak to my new cubs." She gave a wry smile. "I can always blame you if Meleta decides she does not want her stern old sister to sit in judgement over her. I'm warning you now, Albus, if that child becomes a troublemaker, she'll be making her way to you sooner rather than later!"

With that, she gave her hands a final wipe with the napkin, and pushed her chair back from the table in order to rise. As she did so, Albus gave her hand a squeeze, and his gentle "Good luck, my dear," buoyed her as she crossed to the Gryffindor table and began to chivvy her charges, new and old, towards their common room.

* * *

Meta McGonagall stayed close to Remus and Lily as they followed their Head of House from the Great Hall. She was very aware of the eyes on her, and the whispers …

"Never thought old McGonagall had it in her," she overheard one fourth year say to another as they walked past.

"I wonder who the father is?" his friend responded, and Meta had to dig her nails into the fleshy part of her hands. It had never occurred to her that her fellow pupils might think that she was Minerva's daughter. Even at nearly twelve, Meta was well aware of the stigma that was still attached to illegitimacy in the wizarding world.

She felt someone grip her arm, and she looked at Lily, whose green eyes were flashing. "Just ignore them, Meta. They don't know what they're talking about."

Meta nodded.

"It happened at my old school," Lily continued as they followed Professor McGonagall up the stairs. "Relatives like parents and kids, or brothers and sisters and so on. It doesn't mean anything. If anything," Lily went on, "we felt sorry for them. They got no favours and got jumped on twice as hard as everyone else."

Meta grimaced and looked towards the slim, stern figure of her sister. "That's what'll happen here, I tell you," she began gloomily. "Min – er, Professor McGona –EEK!"

"Meta!"

Meta clung gratefully to the other girl. Neither had being paying attention, and the stairs had chosen that moment to move. Now instead of facing towards Gryffindor, the girls found themselves confronted with Slytherins, who were not slow to sneer at them.

Severus, Meta noted, said nothing, but hung back. She was grateful for that.

"Miss Evans! Miss McGonagall!" a familiar voice snapped from just behind them.

Lily and Meta swung around and found themselves face to face with their Head of House, who looked decidedly irritated. Meta, who had seen that expression a couple of times as a small child, gulped, but Lily was staring at the mistress in frank admiration.

"Wow! How did you do that?"

Meta winced.

"Assuming you pay better attention in class than you have been doing just now, Miss Evans, you will no doubt be able to accomplish the same thing yourselves before the term is done. Now come along!"

Wordlessly, the girls followed her back up the (now stationary) staircase and through the portrait hole into the Gryffindor common room. Silence fell at once as the older students took in the unusual sight of their Head of House shepherding her new cubs.

Professor McGonagall glared at them, and Meta saw one or two students shut their mouths abruptly. Then McGonagall gestured towards a door and led the first years through it into what was plainly a disused classroom.

She gestured at them to sit. "Welcome to Gryffindor House," she said at last when they were settled. "Remember, you were deliberately chosen as Gryffindors. That means, however much you may doubt it, that each and every one of you is capable of bravery of heart and nobility of soul. Whether you develop those qualities is, of course, up to you, but here at Hogwarts we shall do our best to help you become those very things and more. Now, you will find that your things have already been moved into your various dormitories; when I leave you, the prefects will direct you. They will also inform you of the password. The Fat Lady will not let you pass into the common room without one, although, as you have seen, as Head of House I do not need it myself. I think that is all for now, although I would like to speak to my sister. Miss McGonagall, remain behind, please. The rest of you – good night, and good luck!"

Meta frankly gaped in shock as her fellow first years filed back into the common room, although Lily squeezed her arm in passing and Remus shot her a grin that lightened his small serious face. Two other boys goggled at her with more curiosity than manners as they passed, and Meta sent them a glare of her own that sent them scuttling off. Feeling cheered at this small victory, she turned back to her sister, facing the latter alone for the first time in nearly five years.

Silence fell, and stretched beyond comfort. Meta fiddled with the fabric of her robe, unsure of what to say.

Finally: "You've grown."

Rather startled at the banality, Meta looked up and met the grey eyes that were so like her own. "I'm nearly twelve," she mentioned.

Her sister's lips quirked in what might have been a smile. "So you are. Are you glad to be here, at Hogwarts?" She was trying to make conversation.

Meta shrugged. "I don't know." It wasn't polite, she thought, but at least it was honest.

She was surprised when Minerva – Professor McGonagall – put her face in her hands for a moment and then turned away in a swirl of green velvet. Tentatively, Meta approached the older woman, but did not try to touch her.

"I'm sorry, for being in Gryffindor," she said after another awkward silence.

Her sister looked down at her. "Don't apologise, Meleta," she said with some weariness. "You cannot help being what you are." She grimaced a little. "I will admit that I had hoped that you would not be in Gryffindor. I cannot be both your sister and your Head of House, and do justice to both those offices."

Meta gulped as tears came to her eyes. Suddenly, she wanted her mother, and not this stern woman who was her sister and yet also, for these next months, in loco parentis. Minerva seemed to realize it, for her gazed softened.

"I have already spoken to the Headmaster," she said, abruptly. "If it should become necessary, due to a conflict of interest, he will undertake the disciplinary duties of Head of House towards you."

"Yes, Professor," Meta said quietly. She looked up at her sister through her lashes, and thought, I see what Mum means. Minerva's old. She's older than my mum. She can't be a normal sister. "Will I go, then?" she asked, not wanting to prolong this uncomfortable interview further.

She tried not to feel hurt at the brief look of relief that crossed McGonagall's face. "Yes. Yes. You must be tired, Meleta."

Meta stopped on her way to the door and turned back. "If you're gonna be my sister at all, my name's Meta," she said.

Professor McGonagall looked startled, but she nodded. "Very well. Informally, 'Meta' it will be. I, of course, am Minerva. Not 'Minnie'!" she added with some sharpness.

For a moment Meta thought Minerva had heard about the cat, but then remembered how, as a small child, she'd insisted on addressing her sister by that name. Despite herself, a giggle escaped her.

Minerva's lips quirked again. "Indeed. Now it is late, and we must both go. I shall see you in class tomorrow, Mel – Meta. Remember," she added warningly, "then it must be 'Professor McGonagall'."

Meta nodded, suddenly too tired to say anything more on this long, strange day. Her sister came up to her and put a surprisingly gentle hand on her shoulder.

"Come, child," she said, her voice sharp again. "Time for you to go to bed. The others should already be there," she added as they came into the empty commonroom. "As they are. The girls' staircase is that way - and don't worry," Minerva put in tartly, "they don't move. The first year dormitory is on the first landing. Can you find your own way up?"

"Yes."

"Very well. You may go. Good night – Meta."

Meta stumbled towards the stairs, and then turned back a final time. "G'night, Minerva," she managed, before continuing up into her dormitory. She only vaguely noticed that Lily was also there, and had a moment's appreciation for the rich red and gold of draperies and the deep softness of the feather mattress before sleep claimed her for its own.


	4. Chapter 3  part 1

Many thanks to my reviewers! Please, if you're reading this, drop a line to say what you think. I'm particularly interested in comments re Meta - is she too Mary Sueish? Or alternatively, does she sound too old fashioned? When I'm writing school stories I tend to return to a 'default' Chalet School mindset - which may result in characters sounding like they're from the 1950s instead of the 1970s! Not, I think, that the slang would have changed much, and thankfully I'm a Brit, so that's not an issue. ; ) Comments about Minerva's characterisation and her interaction with Meta, Albus et al also welcomed. I would like to keep an IC Minerva while at the same time developing her... difficult line to walk.

Thanks again and enjoy this bit. Part two of this chapter will be up shortly!

* * *

Chapter Three

* * *

Something was rubbing her nose. Something wet and scratchy and persistent. Meta moaned in protest and tried to snuggle deeper into her blankets. Something sharp dug into her hands where they clasped the blankets to her, and she yelped. 

"Minnie!" she hissed at the silver tabby, who made herself comfortable on Meta's chest and began to lick her paws.

Meta humphed. For the first time she took in her surroundings and got her bearings; she was at Hogwarts! With a squeak (_what_ time was it?!), she scrabbled out of the four poster, dislodging Minnie in the process. The cat hissed and spat at her before vanishing, but Meta was too busy splashing her face and then getting into her robes to be concerned. She was relieved to note that she was not alone in her panic; Lily was equally harried, her face screwed in pain as she tried to brush the snarls out of her copper curls.

"I thought boarding schools had dressing bells," Lily complained to Meta as the two pulled on their outer robes, newly embroidered with the Gryffindor crest, and headed down the spiral staircase to the commonroom.

"Why do we need bells?" Meta asked, turning to walk backwards.

Lily rolled her eyes. "It might help with the getting-up part, don't you think?"

Meta shrugged. "S'pose. Most people have animals though." She grinned. "It's awfully hard to sleep in when you've a hungry cat or rat or whatever wanting to be fed."

"I don't have an animal," Lily said sadly. "My mother wouldn't let me." She wrinkled her nose. "My mum's a bit of a clean freak, see."

"Really? We're a cat family. I've always had at least one cat."

"Yes, we all know the McGonagalls have a catty streak," quipped a fourth former as she ran past. "Now hurry up. The prefects won't let us go down for brekkie until we're all there."

Taking the hint, the first years followed, and soon they were all following the Gryffindor prefects through the maze of corridors, temperamental doors, and moving staircases that made up the interior of the castle. The first years, who had been too tired the night before to notice details, were awed into silence, but the chatter from the other years made it clear that familiarity bred comfort.

The delicious smells wafting through the double doors of the Great Hall made Meta realise that she was hungry, and she settled to a breakfast of soda, kippers and bacon with relish, whilst Lily did likewise with toast and a boiled egg.

"There's one thing to be grateful for," Lily remarked as she cut the top off her egg, "at least the food's good here."

Meta frowned. "Why shouldn't it be? The house elves here are as good as anywhere else."

Lily paused mid-chew. "House-elves?"

"They're the creatures who do all the cooking and stuff," Remus Lupin supplied from across the table. "They do the mending too," he added as an afterthought.

Lily fingered the lovely bright red-and-gold crest on the front of her robe. "Did they –?"

Meta nodded vigorously. "Yep. How else d'you think it got done so fast?"

Lily frowned. "Dunno. Didn't really think about it."

"It was house-elves," Remus told her wisely. "Don't you have them at home?"

Lily's eyes went wide. "Of course not!"

Remus and Meta exchanged a glance. "It must be a Muggle thing," Meta said.

Remus nodded in agreement, but then asked: "Does anyone know what we do today?" He sounded worried. "This place is awfully big. How are we s'posed to find our way to lessons?"

"Professor McGonagall will hand out the timetables after breakfast," a tall redhead told him. Meta recognised him as one of the prefects from the shield badge on his robes.

"Never mind timetables," a second redhead said from Meta's other side, "we want to know all about _you_."

Meta gasped. Her eyes went from redhead Prefect to redhead Number Two and back again. The latter rolled his eyes in a theatrical manner and sighed.

"We've done it again, Fabe," he commented.

The prefect grinned. "Anyone'd think you'd never seen twins before, kid."

"I haven't," Meta admitted.

The one called 'Gid' held out his hand. "Well, now you have. I'm Gideon Prewett, and Mr Perky Perfect Prefect over there is my identical twin, Fabian – "

"- and now that we've satisfied your curiosity, you can do the same for us," Fabian supplemented.

Meta eyed them warily. "How'd you mean?"

Gideon leaned closer. "Gossip! For example –"

"-are you anything to do with our beloved Head of House?"

"She's my sister," Meta told them.

Their eyes went wide. "Uh," began Fabian, "no offence, but aren't you, um, a bit – "

" – young? Don't get us wrong, your sister's a fine woman, but she's no spring chicken, is she?"

"She's my half sister," Meta clarified, glaring at them.

The boys clung together in pretended fear. "Ooooh, look, Gid, she's got the glare down pat, hasn't she?"

"Yeah. Who'd think it, we've got our very own mini McGonagall – "

Fabian laughed. "Mini McGonagall. That's a good 'un, mate."

"Genius, aren't I," his brother agreed amiably. "I wasn't even trying, neither." He sighed and looked at the startled first years. "Brilliant, kids, just brilliant. That's us. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise."

"I'll tell you otherwise," snapped Professor McGonagall's voice from behind Meta. "Prewett and Prewett, here are your timetables. You're with me first lesson, by the way, and I expect to see clear evidence of your vaunted brilliance then. Now go away and stop terrifying first years."

To Meta's astonishment, the older boys gave the stern professor an easy grin, and took their timetables. "Ta, Professor. We'll go and get ready. We'd much rather leave the terrifying to you, anyhow. You're so good at it!" The last bit was flung over Gideon's shoulder as they departed, and the Gryffindor first years sat watching their Head of House in frozen horror, fully expecting to see the cheeky Prewetts transformed into something small and squashable.

Instead, Professor McGonagall seemed to completely ignore them, although Meta could have sworn she saw something resembling a faint twinkle in the older witch's eyes as she turned back to the first years.

"Here you are: your schedules for this year. Now don't be intimidated," their Head of House added briskly as one or two first years turned slightly pale, "you'll get used to it very quickly, and we teachers do make allowances for you at first – for a _very_ short period, so don't take advantage of it. Now you'd better return to your dormitories and finish getting ready for class."

By the time that they all trooped back into the Great Hall at four o'clock for afternoon tea, Meta was exhausted. The day had been tiring, challenging, frightening and exhilarating by turns, and they still had an hour of prep to go! Evidently Lily and Remus agreed with her, for they slumped over their tea, looking as drained as Meta felt.

"Well," said Lily faintly, "that was … interesting."

"You're gonna be top of the class," Remus observed gloomily as he spread shortbread crumbs all over the table. "You were fab in Charms, Lily."

Lily flushed. "You weren't so dusty in Transfiguration yourself, and Professor McGonagall said Transfiguration was the most complicated magic we'd learn."

"Yeah, but Meta was better still better than me," Remus grumped. "I was hopeless at Charms too. Look. _Wingardium leviosa_!" He pointed his wand at the piece of shortbread still resting on his plate, and it rose by some three millimetres before dropping back and shattering into smithereens.

"I don't know what you're complaining about," Meta told him severely. "That's still lots better than most people managed. Sirius Black blew up his feather, f'r'instance."

"He was just messin' around," Remus insisted, obviously determined to be pessimistic. "I bet he could do it if he wanted. I bet I'm in the bottom. Lily'll be top in Charms, and Meta in Transfiguration. Severus'll top in Potions and Frank in Herbology. Just wait. You'll see!"

Meta shrugged and finished her tea. "It's only the first day," she pointed out. "I bet you're better than you think. And," she added with a groan, "it's nearly quarter past four and we've got to find our way back to the commonroom for prep, or we'll lose housepoints."

Realising the truth of this, the other two hurriedly finished their own tea, and before long the three were attempting to negotiate their way back to Gryffindor for themselves. Admittedly, it took them twice as long as it should have done, and Professor McGonagall threw them a very dirty look when they did appear, but this small achievement put them in a good mood for the rest of the day, and started off their Hogwarts careers on a positive note.


	5. Chapter 3 part 2

Thanks to all my reviewers! And I do agree with you, Asterix - MM is the classic stern-teacher-with-a-heart-of-gold, but maternal she certainly isn't!

This part is Minervacentric, incidentally. It's a bit different for me, so I wonder what you'll think of it.

Keep the feedback coming...: )

* * *

It was Friday afternoon of the first week of term and Professor McGonagall was supervising prep for the junior Gryffindors in her Transfiguration classroom. Every now and then she glanced at them over the top of her square spectacles, looking out for any malingerers.

Meleta, she was pleased to see, was working hard, albeit not without the odd whisper to Lily Evans, who was sitting across the table from her. All in all, Minerva thought as she returned to her own marking, Meleta's first week as a Gryffindor could be said to be a success. Minerva had worried lest the girl expect more from Minerva herself than she could give, but Meta had apparently grasped the idea that, during school hours at least, her sister could only be her Head of House and no more.

Oh. there'd been an awkward moment in their first Transfiguration lesson when two boys sitting at the back row (Sirius Black and James Potter, to be precise) had sniggered when Minerva had said, "Five points to Gryffindor, Miss McGonagall" after the latter had successfully transformed her matchstick into a needle. However, since the mistress had gone on to be similarly generous to Edgar Bones (Hufflepuff) and Severus Snape (Slytherin), no-one could complain. Indeed, Professor McGonagall had awarded points to both Messrs. Potter and Black as well, but since the behaviour of those young gentlemen had left something to be desired, she'd promptly deducted them again, to their palpable disgust.

So Minerva felt she could finally breathe a sigh of relief and relax into her myriad duties as teacher, housemistress, and Deputy Head without adding extra worries to an already over-full plate. Not to mention the fact that events beyond Hogwarts were creating their own difficulties. Gryffindor first year Alice Diggle's elder brother, himself a recent alumni of Hogwarts, had mysteriously disappeared, and the atmosphere beyond the school was becoming increasingly tense. Only yesterday Hagrid had stomped into the staffroom armed with a bottle of his favourite liquor rather than go to his usual haunts in Hogsmeade. When questioned, the big man had given an almost comical shudder and muttered something about 'Ogwarts being the safest place to be these days.

A muffled sound and then furious whispers caused Minerva to look up from Gideon Prewett's latest attempt at brilliance. Remus Lupin was looking flushed, whilst both Meta McGonagall and Lily Evans were glaring daggers at the Black boy.

Minerva sighed and rose from her seat. It was evidently time to circulate. She moved with practiced ease around the classroom, quietly killing the fluttering paper airplanes and causing Sirius Black's seat to twist around in the opposite direction to Meta, Remus and Lily with a twirl of her wand. The look of astonishment on his face as he moved would have been funny, if a muffled oath had not escaped his mouth when his new position allowed him to see out of the window.

"Mister Black!" Professor McGonagall expostulated, "we do _not_ use such language - "

"Professor, there's a fight down there!" Sirius interrupted, apparently not heeding the dark frown on his housemistress's face. She did not appreciate being interrupted. "Paul Crabbe is picking on some kid, and Lucius Malfoy and Narcissa Black are just _standing_ there, watching!"

Minerva spared a second wonder at the contempt in Sirius's voice as he spoke of his cousin before glancing out of the window in her own turn. By now the oafish Crabbe could be seen hurling hexes at the Prewett twins, whilst a younger boy pressed himself against the cloister wall, plainly terrified. Minerva could not hear what was being said, but the looks of hatred on both sides made in plain that it was only a matter of time before someone cast an Unforgivable. She turned back to her junior Gryffindors, some of whom had been brave enough to run to other windows.

"Sit down!" she snapped, following the words with her sternest glare. "Yes, Miss Diggle, that means you, too. Now!" she added as Alice Diggle opened her mouth to protest.

"It's her brother down there," James Potter murmured, almost inaudibly.

Minerva, who had already ascertained this, said nothing beyond, "Get back to work, all of you. Miss MacDonald, you're in charge until I get back – and any misbehaviour _will_ result in mass docking of points."

With a final fierce glare at her charges, Minerva nodded at Mary MacDonald, who was one of the more sensible third years, and hurried out of the classroom. She transformed into her Animagus form for greater speed, and it was only a matter of moments before she was in the courtyard, hurrying towards the combatants.

"- blood traitors like him shouldn't be in Hogwarts at all, let alone in Slytherin," Crabbe was saying in his leaden voice, words that Minerva was certain were inspired by the Malfoy boy behind him. "But it's not as if scum like you Prewetts would care, is it, since your own sister has married into one of the biggest traitor families there is!"

"Better a traitor or Muggleborn than a brainless eejit like you Crabbe!" Gideon Prewett shouted back, his bright blue eyes glittering dangerously. "As for your puppetmaster, he's been pureblood for so many generations it's a miracle you're not a Squib-"

Lucius, pale with fury at the insult, glared, whilst Crabbe, his own face flushed with hatred and excitement, pointed his wand at the twins.

Minerva moved to do something, to stop them, but she was too slow.

"Crucio," Crabbe said, and Minerva was surprised at the amount of venom the notoriously slow boy was able to inject into his voice.

"No!" yelled Fabian, throwing himself on his brother and dragging him out of harm's way. The frightened boy huddling into the wall was not so fortunate and his high screams pierced the air as the curse took cruel hold of every muscle, nerve and sinew.

"Stop it! At once! At once, I say!" Professor McGonagall yelled as soon as she'd recovered from the shock of seeing one student hurl the torture curse at another.

Narcissa Black raised one elegant eyebrow. "Look who it is," she said gently, "the moggy has come to defend a Slytherin. Wonders will never cease, will they?"

Minerva ignored the Black girl and focused her attention on Paul Crabbe. "Mr Crabbe," she said, her voice shaking, "you have just performed an Unforgivable Curse on a fellow student. This is unacceptable." Her wand came up, and she waved. "_Incarcerus_!"

"_Impedimenta_!" Minerva heard Fabian Prewett yell beside her, and gratitude filled her as Narcissa's movements slowed to unsteady ineffectiveness. Malfoy, on the other hand, stood passively as the ropes twisted around his friend, binding him.

Satisfied that the miscreants were disabled, Minerva took a deep breath and turned to Gideon Prewett. "Mr Prewett, please find Professor Dumbledore and Professor Slughorn and summon them here."

Gideon nodded and left. Minerva cast a measuring look at her prisoners and then crossed to their victim, who was lying in a limp and trembling heap.

"Mr Diggle," she said gently, knowing not to touch him. "Can you hear me?"

A soft groan came in assent.

"Just hold on," Professor McGonagall told him, her accent thicker than usual. "We'll get you to Madam Pomfrey as soon as we can. Mr Prewett!"

"Yes, Professor."

"Run and get Madam Pomfrey. Tell her to bring some sleeping potion. There's no need to put Mr Diggle through more pain if it can be avoided."

"Yes, Professor." She heard the sound of Fabian running towards the hospital wing.

"Minerva?" A panting voice.

She looked up into the concerned and horrified face of Horace Slughorn, who gallantly assisted her to rise before demanding the story. Minerva, her voice trembling with outrage and her hands gesticulating, told him. She was glad to see that Horace looked ashamed.

_So he should_, she thought fiercely. _He has obviously not been doing his job properly, if his students could believe such things… _

"Lucius Malfoy is behind this somehow," she said suddenly, interrupting Horace's blustered exclamations. Malfoy and Miss Black had prudently melted out of sight, she noted.

Slughorn frowned. "My dear Minerva – "

"Don't patronise me, Horace!" she flared. "The Imperius isn't the only way of making someone do your will, as you very well know. The Crabbes have been a client family of the Malfoys for generations, and we both know Crabbe is too leaden and indoldent a personality to carry out such an attack without some sort of incentive, and so I shall tell Albus!"

"Minerva! What's happened?" It was Poppy Pomfrey, flushed and out of breath from her run down from the hospital wing. "Oh Merlin! What's happened to the boy, Minerva?" She crouched down by the fallen student, her diagnostic wand scanning his body.

"Didn't Mr Prewett tell you? Never mind … The Cruciatus Cruse, Poppy. That's why I asked you to bring the sleeping potion. The pain …". Minerva's voice trailed off as her gaze flicked back to young Mr Diggle.

Poppy paled. "Oh, the poor boy. The sleeping potion was the right thing, in that case." With a deftness born of long practice, the matron poured some potion down the throat of the nearly unconscious student before rising to her feet. "Now let's get this poor child up to bed. Fabian, you'll give me a hand, won't you? Minerva, Horace – for heaven's sake make sure the culprit here is punished, and heaven help him – or her – if he or she turns up in the hospital wing in the next couple of days." She pointed her wand at Diggle, murmured _Mobilicorpus_, and began to guide the levitating form of the now slumbering boy back to the hospital wing.

Minerva watched her go before looking at her colleague. "I intend to do just that," she told him sharply. "Now come along, Horace, do. I see Albus waiting for us. This cannot be allowed to pass unpunished!"


	6. Chapter 4

A/N: Here's Chapter Four. I hope people enjoy it and don't find it boring! Like Hermione, I'm not a huge fan of sports, so I never enjoyed the Quidditch descriptions hugely - except for the Jordan/McG exchanges which always made me laugh. Therefore I haven't actually described the match that's going on in the background with any great detail. This means this chapter is mainly filler, but given our 'canonical' knowledge of M. G. McG I didn't feel I could exclude it. There's gonna be a more detailed Quidditch match towards the end of the story though, so if anyone feels they can help me with that, do shout.

Still looking for a beta...

And Minerva-fans, don't panic. Lots of Minerva coming this way soon.

Don't forget to review!

* * *

By supper time, the story of the duel had spread courtesy of Gryffindor, and the entire school was in an uproar. During the meal, the denizens of Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw found themselves almost wincing from the searing glares shot across the Great Hall from the Slytherin and Gryffindor tables. Not even the meal – lusciously plump sausages, piles of creamy mash, and carefully spiced beans – succeeded in distracting the hungry students' attention.

"I don't understand," Lily Evans complained as she poured beans over her mash with a liberal hand. "I know some wizards don't like half bloods or Muggleborns because of all that pureblood tosh, but what's a 'blood traitor'?"

Meta and Remus exchanged glances, but it was Gwen Weasley, a fifth former, who answered the question.

"That's what snobs like the Malfoys and their like call people who aren't xenophobic," the girl said bitterly. "They think that the wizarding world should be kept pure from any Muggle taint, and that wizards and Muggles should have no contact _at all_."

"Xeno-_what_?"

"People who don't like outsiders," put in a blonde Ravenclaw, who'd obviously been eavesdropping from the next table.

Remus frowned. "I thought they didn't have contact, already?" he asked. He was swirling his food around his plate, but was eating little.

"Well, they gotta have some," Meta pointed out, "or Lily wouldn't be able to come."

Gwen nodded her head wisely. "Ezackly. If the Malfoys and their lot had their way, Lily wouldn't be here now."

Lily opened her green eyes very wide. "But whyever? Isn't it more dangerous to have untrained witches and wizards wandering about? F'r'instance," she added thoughtfully, "I once smashed a phonebox."

Meta, who was familiar enough with the Muggle world to understand this, spluttered. "Why?"

Lily shrugged. "It was raining. My sister and her friends were in there, making fun of me, while I was out in the wet and cold. I didn't mean to do it!"

Gwen paused, her fork halfway to her mouth. "Wait a minute. Aren't phoneboxes those red and glass things? Did anyone get hurt?"

Lily's eyes dropped. "Tuney got a bit scratched," she confessed.

"See? That's a reason why Muggleborn witches and wizards need training too._Toujours pur_, my foot. _Toujours_ stupid, more like." Gwen began shoveling forkfuls of mash into her mouth, scowling all the while.

"How'd you know what a phonebox is?" Meta asked suddenly.

Gwen's scowl faded and she grinned. "My brother, Arthur, is a Muggle nut. He's fascinated by them and their tekology. He dragged me into Muggle London over the summer so I could see."

"What d'you think's gonna happen to the boy who did the hexing?" Remus wanted to know.

Gwen raised one shoulder. "How should I know? Though I bet he'll be expelled if McGonagall gets her way. Nothing makes her madder than seeing a student get hurt."

"What was that thing that boy did that made the other one scream?"

Gwen's pretty freckled face darkened. "From what I've heard, it was the Cruciatus Curse. It's a torture curse, and one of the Unforgivables. Why, you can be sent to Azkaban for doing it!"

Remus and Meta inhaled sharply, but Lily looked puzzled, so Gwen explained further. "Azkaban's the wizard prison. It's a horrible place, out in the middle of the sea." She shuddered. "People who get sent there go mad, I've heard."

"Will that happen to the boy who did it?" Lily asked, looking appalled.

The older girl's face went hard. "Depends on whether he's of age or not," she said shortly, before deliberately turning back to her own friends, and leaving the first years to themselves.

The Gryffindor common room was a subdued place that night. Alice Diggle's face was white, and her eyes were red, whilst Sirius Black had a scowl on his face that was as dark as his name. The Prewett twins, normally the life and soul of the common room, were unusually silent and inclined to snap. The first years were rather glad when Fabian looked up at nine o'clock and announced curtly that it was time the 'firsties' were in bed.

Nor did things improve over the weekend. The staff were harried and cross, and all plans for Saturday and Sunday – including the tryouts for the Quidditch teams – were suspended. To add insult to injury, the weather appeared to sympathise, and it rained steadily throughout the two days, to the disgust of the students. On Sunday, the news came that Alice's brother had been moved to St Mungo's, although the girl was reassured that he was in no danger.

All in all, Meta thought as she and Lily tramped up to their dormitory on Sunday night, their first weekend at Hogwarts had been pretty miserable. The only bright spot was the letter that Mercury, the McGonagall family owl, had brought to her on Sunday from her mother. Rosa's letter, full of private jokes and her own natural warmth, had increased Meta's longing for her mother and her home, and, as a result, she was in the full throes of homesickness by Monday morning. Nor was she the only one, and it was a very irritable group of first years that trooped into Professor McGonagall's classroom for the last lesson of the day.

Meta immediately cheered up a little at the sight of the silver tabby with spectacle markings around its eyes. Lily and Remus, being uninitiated, remained grumpy as they took their places, although both did a momentary double take at the cat sitting so calmly on the teacher's desk.

"Last one of the day," Remus said as he slammed his wand and books on the desk with such violence that the old desk wobbled ominously. He was pale and looked unwell. "Not before bloody time – what?"

Meta, who'd poked him hard, glared at him, but before she could say anything more, James Potter and Sirius Black ran in. They were clearly out of breath, and James's hair was sticking out in twenty directions.

"Whew," Sirius could be heard to say as he and James sat at the back. "That was was close. The staff have been in such foul moods lately that old McGonagall'd probably turn us into toads for being – AAGH!!"

Meta snickered as her sister chose to transform at that most opportune moment. For her part, Professor McGonagall glared at the troublesome duo before saying sharply, "Hogwarts staff are not in the habit of randomly Transfiguring students, Mr Black, regardless of how much they might deserve it. Get your books out, please; before we can do any more practical work you need a better understanding of the theory behind Transfiguration."

The class groaned as they obeyed her. Without exception, they all preferred_doing _magic as opposed to learning about it. Professor McGonagall, needless to add, ignored them and proceeded to drum the basic theoretical principles of Transfiguration into their heads with such thoroughness and energy that they were left mentally breathless by the time the bell went for the end of the day.

"Saved by the bell," Lily groaned in Meta's ear under cover of the pealing. "Get me out of here, please. I need coffee. Badly."

Meta grinned, but before she could say anything, Professor McGonagall was calling a halt to the scrapings and clatterings that usually accompanied the end of a lesson.

"Sit down!" she barked. "Did I say you were dismissed? Yes, Mr Rosier, I am quite aware the bell has gone. I am not deaf, whatever you may think. Now," she went on more calmly as the class subsided, "I have some good news for you. I know that last weekend was not an – er – _pleasant_ introduction to Hogwarts. This afternoon, instead of coming straight back here for prep, you are to go the pitch to watch the Quidditch tryouts. Please note," she added severely, "that this does _not_ mean you are excused your homework. You will simply have to make up the time yourselves later, if necessary."

The room exploded.

"Quidditch!"

"What's that?"

"Professor, can't I -?"

"Professor, why can't we take part in the tryouts?"

"Quiet!" Professor McGonagall yelled, her voice suddenly magically amplified. "Quidditch, for those of you who don't know, is the team sport of choice in the wizarding world. This afternoon you will be watching the senior tryouts, mainly for the benefit of those of you who are not familiar with the game. Tomorrow, I understand you will be having your first flying lesson with Madam Hooch. Those of you who prove yourselves proficient on a broomstick may take part in the junior tryouts on Saturday – but _only_ if Madam Hooch permits it. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Professor," the class mumbled.

"'S'not fair," Meta heard someone grumble as they were finally dismissed. "I've been playing Quidditch since I could stay on a broom!"

"It's perfectly fair," she heard someone else retort as they left the classroom. "Lots of people haven't played before, and the Muggleborns have never even sat on a broomstick. I s'pose they don't want all of us in the hospital wing," the second speaker finished practically.

Lily turned wide eyes on Meta and Remus as soon as they were seated in the Great Hall with their tea and cake. "Broomsticks?" she gasped.

Remus nodded his head energetically, but his mouth was too full to say anything coherent.

"Fink of netbog s'only s'in the air," Meta said through her own mouthful of cake.

"Netbog?" Lily repeated, and then her face cleared. "Oh, you mean _netball_. But ... in the _air_?!"

"Don't you like being high up?" Remus asked with interest.

Lily shuddered. "I hate it, ever since Tuney and I went climbing a tree and I got stuck. When Mum called for us to come in for supper she went off and left me up there." She scowled.

"Your sister sounds like a right cat," Remus observed.

"Oy! I'm a McGonagall, 'member? I can see why getting stuck might put you off heights, though. How'd you get down again?"

"Dunno, ackshally," Lily confessed. "Just ... one minute I was up there, howling for help and so – so mad, and then the next minute I was on the ground again. Was I ever glad to be there!" She heaved a sigh and gulped down the rest of her tea.

"Done?" Meta asked. She felt she'd been patient for quite long enough. "C'mon, let's go. We don't want to be late!"

Remus and Lily followed Meta and the growing stream of students that was making its way down to the Quidditch stadium. Once there with the tryouts under way, Meta rubbed her hands with glee.

"I've been dying to see this," she said. "Both my parents played Quidditch when they were young. So did Minerva," she added, forgetting the rule about using her sister's given name in school.

Lily cast a plainly doubtful look at the older students, who were speeding through the air on their broomsticks. She winced as a Bludger headed straight for an unfortunate Ravenclaw, and then gasped as the Gryffindor keeper hung upside down on his broomstick in order to prevent the Quaffle from getting through the hoop. She turned to Meta. "Your _sister_ did all this?!"

Meta nodded her head so vigorously that the pom-pom on her red-and-yellow hat bounced energetically. "Yep. She wasn't born old, you know. Mum said she was very good in her day."

"What did she play?" Remus asked, his eyes never leaving the game. "Agh. The Slytherin's got it... that's Evan's big brother, isn't it? He looks awfully mean...AAAGGGH. That's a foul!" he yelled, surprising Meta and Lily.

"Oy. Pipe down, pipsqueak," a Gryffindor fifth year ordered. "You're blocking my view."

Meta turned. "It's in the air," she pointed out. "How can he be blocking your view?"

The fifth former gave her a lazy grin. "'Cos I say so, of course. Now shut up...ooooooh!"

"What? What'd I miss?" Meta asked Lily frantically.

"Evan's brother got the thingy through the hoop," Lily said absently. "That's a goal, isn't it?"

"Yeah. Not that it really matters," Meta returned, her attention now fixated. The players were thoroughly warmed up, and trying to keep track of the Quaffle as the hard leather ball moved at high speeds through the air required concentration.

"Huh? But surely the team with the most goals wins?"

"Sometimes they do," Remus told her. "Depends on the Snitch."

"Snitch? What's a _Snitch_?!"

"Little golden ball with wings," Meta heard someone say, and she turned to see James Potter grinning at Lily. "The Snitch is worth 150 points," the boy explained, "so the team that gets it first usually wins, 'cos they have more points. They're not using the Snitch today, though. They'll trial separately for their seekers."

"How do you know?" Meta asked suspiciously. She did not trust this boy, with his mischief and arrogant charm.

James flashed her a grin of her own. "I asked Madam Hooch."

"Hmmph," said Meta. "D'you play?" she asked, deciding that she may as well be civil.

"Chaser," James told her simply.

Meta eyed him. "H'mm. You look fast enough," she said grudgingly. "What about you, Remus?"

Remus turned faintly pink and mumbled.

"Huh?"

"Nevereverbeenonabroomstick," he muttered very fast.

A whistle blew. The audience erupted in screams. The little group around Meta scowled; their conversation had distracted them and they did not know how the test match and turned out. Lily, oddly enough, was the only one able to give a verdict.

"It was a draw," she announced. "Two all."

"That wouldn't happen for real," Meta growled. "The Snitch wouldn't let it."

"At least it shows the teams are well matched," Remus pointed out.

"Hmmph," said Meta again.

"Do Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw have one like this too?" Lily asked.

"It's on now," the fifth former behind them said. "They're on the other pitch." He smirked. "We were lucky. Us and the snakes put our names down for this one first."

Meta turned to face the older boy. "Where do the junior tryouts happen?" she asked anxiously.

The fifth former shrugged. "Wherever Madam Hooch puts you. There's only two junior teams instead of four, so you only need one pitch."

"What? Why?" James sounded scandalised.

"Ask us another. A kid was killed a few years ago in a Quidditch match. Ever since they've been sniffy about you kids playing. You can only be on the junior team if Madam Hooch, Madam Pomfrey AND your Head of House OK it."

Lily gave Meta a nudge. "Meta'll be OK, then."

Meta snorted, but James was looking at her with something like interest. "What do you play?"

"I played Seeker when we did it at home," she said, turning red. "I might not get it here though," she added.

James looked politely sceptical. "Pull the other one. Your sister is our Head of House. From all I hear she's a bit of a Quidditch fanatic herself, she'd love you to be on it!"

"That's exactly why she mightn't," Meta returned gloomily. "The one thing everyone knows about Min – er, Professor McGonagall – is that she's nuts on being fair."

Lily nodded wisely. "She mightn't want to be accused of having pets, see," she told James in a manner that was nearly-but-not-quite patronising.

The fifth former, who had clearly listened to all this, was nodding away. "The kid has a point," he said to James. "That's exactly what McG_would_ do. Unless the kid is something special as a Seeker, of course. Then it 'ud be unfair to keep her off the team." He chuckled. "That'd get McGonagall's knickers in a twist all right."

Meta looked the older student up and and down. "I have a name," she said in her frostiest manner, "an' I'd rather you used it instead of calling me 'kid'. I'm only three years younger'n you. I don't remember being given yours, though?"

The fifth former blinked. "Scary, scary stuff. Uh, I'm Algie Longbottom. Algernon, really, but don't even think about calling me it!" He scowled.

Meta nodded sympathetically. "I know. I'm really 'Meleta', of all things. The McGonagalls have a thing about fancy names from ancient Rome and Greece."

"Therefore, 'Minerva'," Algie said. "Goddess of war and wisdom, and patroness of arts and crafts. Rather an odd mixture, if you ask me. What's 'Meleta'?"

Since he seemed genuinely interested, Meta told him. "She was one of the Greek Muses," she explained. "Mum tried to tell me more, but ... who cares about those old gods and goddesses anyhow?"

"Well, I think it's awfully interesting!" Lily put in. " 'Lily' is so boring, although it could have been worse, and I think 'Petunia' is just foul!"

"Is that 'Tuney'?" Remus asked.

Lily nodded. "Yep. Now I think of it," she went on, "you're like Meta, too, Remus. You have a Roman name."

Meta looked at Remus with interest. "Really?"

Remus's head dropped and it was Lily who explained. "Romulus and Remus were the twin brothers who built Rome," she began. "Their mum died, or they were dumped, I forget which, but they were brought up by a wolf."

"A wolf?" James and Meta said together.

Lily nodded her copper head. "H'mm. She fed them so they didn't die. And then they grew up and built Rome, only they argued." She frowned.

"What happened next?" James asked, intrigued.

Remus jumped up, and Meta was startled to see that he looked rather white. "I think it's time to go in!" he announced, and then stalked off. Meta noticed that Algie had also gone.

His friends exchanged glances. "What was all that about?" Meta wondered.

James shrugged. "Who knows. Remus can be moody, I've noticed. We share a dormitory, you see."

"He's right, anyhow," Lily said staunchly. "The test thingy is done, and nearly everyone's gone in. Professor McGonagall said we hadn't been excused prep, remember, so we need to go do it." She sighed. "I still have History of Magic from the other day to do as well. I_hate_ History of Magic!"

James grinned at her. "Don't we all. Everybody does, really. It's old Binns, see. I really don't know what they're thinking, getting a research-mad ghost to teach."

"I think having a ghost teach History is great," Lily said as they began to make their way back to Gryffindor Tower. "Much better than how Muggle schools do it. If only he was more interesting and talked of something more than those everlasting goblin wars! Still, better get started."

With that charming reminder, James and Meta had no choice but to follow her back to the common room. However, neither concentrated overly much on their prep that night, and while James managed to escape retribution the next day – like his friend Sirius, he was very bright – Meta found herself having to repeat her Potions prep, much to her annoyance. At least being busy helped the week to go faster. As promised, Saturday brought the tryouts for the junior Quidditch team, and both Meta and James, to their own delight, found themselves appointed Seeker and Chaser respectively. As there were only seven places, Gryffindor House was thrilled to form nearly a third of the junior Quidditch team, and Meta's cup ran over on Saturday night, when her sister held her back after supper to give her a rare smile and a quiet 'Well Done'.


	7. Chapter 5 part 1

And now for a little Albus-Minerva interaction! Part two will follow as soon as it arrives in my brain.

As always, **please review**. Also: should the next part continue the Minerva-focus or go back to Meta?

* * *

**Chapter five**

No-one could say that the beginning of the fourth week of term was anything but unauspicious. Due to Dumbledore's commitments at the Ministry of Magic, Professor McGonagall found herself ensconsed in the Headmaster's office, and struggling to put paperwork in order. In the five years since her appointment as Deputy Headmistress, it was a task to which Minerva had become accustomed.

Routine, dull administrative jobs were not activities in which Albus Dumbledore excelled, and Minerva had learnt – painfully – during her first year as Deputy that Dumbledore had a habit of putting Notice-Me-Not charms on papers he didn't want to deal with. That had caused quite a fuss when some busybody or other from the Ministry had descended on them halfway through the summer term and irately demanded to see a full reckoning of the school's accounts forthwith, as previous requests had apparently been ignored. Cue much panic, and more than a few words between Headmaster and Deputy once it had all been sorted out.

For Minerva, who was methodical by nature, the much-despised paperwork was something of a solace. These few quiet hours that she spent each term in the Headmaster's office were a source of peace and even renewal, accompanied as they often were by the soothing sounds of Fawkes's trilling in the background and the gentle tinkle of the moving parts of Dumbledore's shiny toys.

On this occasion the peace was shortlived.

An insistent tapping on the windowpane distracted Minerva from her report on this year's OWL and NEWT results, and she crossed quickly to the window to allow the large tawny owl entry. Her stomach clenched as she recognised the black envelope tied on the owl's leg, and her hands shook a little as she freed the owl from its burden and provided the expected reward.

"What's it going to be this time?" she muttered as she sat down again. The black envelope lay with innocuous stillness on the desk, but Minerva knew it would not remain long thus if she did not act. She broke the seal with her customary decisiveness, and waited.

As she had expected, the envelope slowly levitated itself before speaking in a solemn voice that Minerva recognised as belonging to the current head of Magical Law Enforcement. "The Ministry regrets to inform you that the body of Lewis Diggle was discovered this morning. Further details will be forwarded to you when they became available, and we request that you inform those family members who reside in your care." A long note was sounded, and then the envelope dissolved gently into nothingness in a manner quite unlike the furious incineration that accompanied the more standard variety of Howlers.

"Poor Alice," Minerva murmured, her voice shaking slightly. She'd known and taught Lewis Diggle, who had left Hogwarts only recently. Like his parents and his young sister, he'd been a Gryffindor. It was still a shock to her that the middle Diggle, Charles, the boy who'd been hexed by Lucius Malfoy, was a Slytherin. Although it was not as if very ambitious children did not sometimes end up in Gryffindor, just as some very brave children could find themselves in Slytherin...

"What's the matter, my dear?" Albus Dumbledore asked as he stepped out of the fire. She had been so wrapped up in her own thoughts that she had not noticed the sudden flare of green.

"Lewis Diggle's body has been found," she told him tightly. "And the Prophet contained news of more Disappearances this morning. So far, no more that are connected to the school, but it's only a matter of time. Albus - "

"No, Minerva," Dumbledore said gently. "Now is not the time to go obviously on the defensive. We want these children to have as normal lives as possible -"

"Whilst their families are Disappearing and dying?" Minerva flung back at him. "Do we even know why this is happening, Albus? Is it truly as random as it appears? I've heard rumours that the Ministry are considering passing laws against allowing Muggleborns to hold prominent roles in our society. Is it true?"

To Minerva's frustration, Dumbledore did not respond. He simply stood before her, tall and thin, looking strangely aged, for all that his flowing hair and beard still contained much of its original auburn. What disturbed her most, however, was the fact that the bright blue eyes behind the half-moon glasses were missing their usual twinkle.

"Albus!" she inisted when still he said nothing. "Should we be worried? Are we facing another Grindlewald?"

"I do not know, Minerva," Dumbledore responded with a gentleness that was as frustrating as his silence had been. "Like you, I have heard rumours and murmurings to the effect that our society should be purged of undue Muggle and Muggleborn influence – but I know not whence these rumours come, and certainly I know of no official measures to that effect."

"And the possibility of a new Grindlewald?" Minerva asked again, wondering at the man's strange reluctance to face this question.

Dumbledore's mustache twitched in a manner that she knew indicated a smile. "As I said, I do not know. I am only one man, my dear. I cannot know everything, contrary to popular belief."

"But if -"

"Minerva, even supposing you are right, what would you have me do? Announce the return of a new Dark Lord in the Wizenmagot and send them into disarray? Frighten the children under our care, when we have no proof?"

His Deputy huffed. "Very well. What do you wish me to do about the Prophet – and the Diggles?"

"It is necessary to do nothing about the former, my dear. You know as well as I do that only a fraction of our students actually pay attention to anything other than Quidditch news, and, as you said yourself, there was nothing in today's paper that would give rise to alarm. Regarding the Diggles, that is a task for the respective Heads of Houses."

"Albus!" Minerva expostulated. "Charles Diggle is only recently released from Poppy's care. He is in no state to deal with anything more, and we both know that Horace Slughorn is worse than useless when it comes to dealing with actual issues that have nothing to do with drinking and holding little parties."

Her tone was scornful as she finished. Like Dumbledore, Slughorn had been a teacher at Hogwarts when Minerva herself had attended the school, and even as a young girl Minerva McGonagall had disliked the man's overt favouritism to those he considered potentially useful in the future.

Albus's eyes glimmered slightly behind his glasses. "If you feel that strongly about it, Minerva, then may I suggest that you undertake the task yourself? I must go out again, and giving bad news is quite within your remit as Deputy Headmistress."

Minerva glared at the old man. "Albus Dumbledore, you are the most Machiavellian character it has ever been my misfortune to meet!"

Dumbledore shrugged a little. "Then all you have to do is leave Mr Diggle to Horace's tender mercies. As Head of Gryffindor, Miss Diggle is unquestionably your responsibility in any case."

Minerva huffed.

The Headmaster selected a raspberry drop from his sweet bowl and sucked it thoughtfully, the round sweet causing one cheek to bulge in a manner resembling a scavenging hamster. "I must leave again before long. What did you do with the house allocation's for this year's intake?"

"I filed them in their proper place," Minerva snapped at him. "What do you want with them anyhow?"

Albus waved a nonchalent hand and the papers appeared before him in mid-air. He placed the scrolls inside his robes and then answered his deputy's question. "The Ministry have decided that it is time that they maintain records of family and Hogwarts house affiliations, and yes, Minerva, I dislike this as much as you do, but if we are to avoid more overt interference from the Ministry I am afraid that we must allow them this concession."

"Dear Merlin, Albus, it looks as if the rumours are right, after all!" Minerva knew she must look as sick as she suddenly felt. "I know those papers contain only the sketchiest of details, but – but there's quite enough there to give grist to the mill of any pureblood fanatic." She clenched her hands. "This really is not what I signed up for, Dumbledore. I thought I'd left the Ministry and Ministry politics behind when I hung up my Auror's cloak fifteen years ago, but now it seems that teaching is just as bad."

She felt a warm hand descend on her shoulder. "You care about people, Minerva. You want to protect them from harm. That's why you became an Auror in the first place, my dear, and it's why I asked you to become my Deputy Headmistress five years ago." The pressure on her shoulder tightened momentarily. "I'm sorry I must leave the unpleasant task of breaking children's hearts in your hands, but I know no-one will do it better than you - "

"Pomona would," Minerva interjected grimly.

"She might," the Headmaster allowed. "But her desire to comfort and coddle the children might also leave them feeling smothered and confused. You will allow them room to think and reflect and grieve on their own terms."

Minerva looked up at that, and gave her old friend and mentor a smile that could almost be described as watery. "Thank you, Albus," she whispered. "Your faith means a great deal to me." She took a deep breath and rose.

Dumbledore accompanied her to the door. "Good fortune go with you, Minerva."

Minerva nodded. "Thank you. And you, at the Ministry. Now, if you will excuse me, I must go and break some children's hearts."


	8. Chapter 5 part 2

When the junior Gryffindors clambered through the portrait hole after prep that afternoon, they were caught up short by the unusual sight of their Head of House standing awkwardly by the fire, whilst the small trembling form of Alice Diggle cowered in an armchair.

There was a moment of jostling in the silence as first years pushed their way to the front of the crowd, but Lily was the first to speak.

"What's wrong with Alice, Professor?"

Meta came to stand beside her. "Has something happened to her brother? In the Great Hall they were saying -"

She was cut off by a wave of her sister's hand, but Sirius Black was not similarly restrained.

"He's dead, isn't he? Her brother."

"Mr Black!" Professor McGonagall's voice cut through the murmurs and exclamations of the juniors. "Have you no sense of tact?"

Meta was astonished to see that Sirius was not intimidated by Minerva in the slightest. He returned glare for glare. "It's not a secret, Professor. Everyone was talking about it at tea -"

"Shut up, Sirius Black!" Alice shouted from the armchair where she'd huddled. Her face was still hidden, but Meta was surprised at how loud her voice was. "You always think you know everything 'cos you're a Black, but you don't -"

"It's nothing to do with my family!" Sirius returned furiously, his pale skin flushing, but Alice ignored both his reaction and that of everyone else in the room.

"Then why was my brother killed? You think I'm stupid, all of you, but my dad works in the Ministry. Both of my parents are half-bloods, and people are saying -"

"Miss Diggle, that is enough," Professor McGonagall put in. She moved to put a quelling hand on Alice's shoulder and shot a warning look at Sirius. Meta thought that she looked nearly as shocked as Alice herself did, and was confused. What was going on?

"What does blood have to do anything?" That was Lily.

Professor McGonagall sighed. "In a moment, Miss Evans. Miss Diggle, please go to the infirmary. Madam Pomfrey and your brother and parents will meet you there."

For a moment, Meta thought Alice would argue, but then all the fire and anger drained out of her and she looked tiny, even though she was one of the tallest of the first years. She swallowed, hard, and then turned and left the common room without meeting anyone's eyes.

There was a moment of silence as the portrait closed behind her. Lily's green eyes were fixed intently on their housemistress's face; so too was Sirius Black's.

"Sit down."

Not daring to do otherwise, the juniors sat - on chairs, sofas, the tables, even the floor, forming a tight circle with their Head of House in its centre.

Minerva sat herself, one hand drawing her emerald robes around her as if she was cold, even though she was in front of the fire. "As you all know, Professor Dumbledore defeated Grindelwald in 1945."

Meta saw nearly everyone nod. Even the Muggleborns, like Lily and Peter and Rosemary Brown, who was Meta's room mate, had seen this snippet on the back of Dumbledore's chocolate frog card.

"Does anyone know why they were fighting?"

"Was it anything to do with the war, Miss? I mean, Professor?"

Professor McGonagall's dark brow contracted. "War, Miss Brown?"

Rosemary's bright blue eyes never wavered as she nodded confidently. "Yes, Professor. Was Grindelwald a Nazi?"

Meta saw her sister relax. "Ah. I suppose he was, in a sense, although I have no idea of how active he was in the Muggle side of the war. Certainly he agreed with the idea of racial purity, only he interpreted it as applying to the wizarding world."

"He was a pureblood, wasn't he?"

"Yes, Mr Potter. His family were the German equivalent of the Malfoys or Blacks here - pureblood for generations, and inordinately proud of that fact." Meta saw that McGonagall carefully did not look at their own resident Black.

Sirius scowled and hunkered down on the floor. Meta wondered why he disliked his family so much, and why he'd been Sorted Gryffindor in the first place. Minerva had described Gryffindors as being 'brave of heart and noble of soul' but so far Meta hadn't seen anything to make her see Sirius Black as either of those things... and yet, and yet, she remembered that he'd been the one to raise the alarm when Charles Diggle was being tortured, even though his own cousin was one of the torturers. Meta shook her head and tried not to think about it, especially as Minerva was still talking.

"...by 1945 the Allies had defeated Hitler, and whilst Europe was in disarray, Grindelwald was able to step up his reign of terror in both the wizarding and Muggle worlds. His aim was to reduce the Muggles to little more than servants, whilst promoting purity of wizarding blood. For the wizarding elite to work as a governing body, he said, they must have no contact with Muggles or Muggle culture."

"Not even if they needed to, to do their jobs?" Lily suggested timidly.

Professor McGongagall gave the girl a grim smile. "I don't believe he thought that far ahead, Miss Evans. In any case, it became unecessary. Professor Dumbledore had been receiving secret, urgent demands from help from wizard resistance groups all over Europe. He and Grindelwald had known each other as boys, you see, and Grindelwald knew that the Headmaster was his equal -"

"Wow," mumbled Lily, just as she had that first day on the stairs.

"Indeed, Miss Evans. Let me finish; I do not like being interrupted." Meta suppressed a grin when she saw Lily turn a shade of red that clashed with her dark copper hair, but she was as interested as anyone in hearing in the end of Minerva's story. "So, Professor Dumbledore and Grindelwald duelled and Dumbledore won."

"Where is Grindelwald now, Professor?" Mary MacDonald asked from her perch on the arm of one battered settee.

McGonagall's lips thinned. "He is in prison."

"What if he escapes?" Sirius asked. Meta saw that he looked worried.

"You need not fear that. He is so closely guarded that even Azkaban would seem poorly watched by comparison."

"So he's not behind all these people Disappearing then?"

Minerva looked startled, but she covered it up almost at once. "Why would you think that, Mr Potter?"

James Potter gave a careless shrug. "My dad says that Grindelwald's ideas about magic and blood were nearly more dangerous than his skill in the Dark Arts."

The room became very still, but James went on as if he didn't care. "Dad says that our worse nightmare would be a Dark Wizard who combined all his Dark skills with taking Grindy's ideas a step further."

"'Grindy', Mr Potter?" their Head of House repeated drily, and the tension in the room eased as they all tittered a little.

"What do you mean by a step further, James?" That was Sirius, asking what they all wanted to know.

James looked at Professor McGonagall, and a slight nod of her head indicated that he could continue. "Grindy – er, Grindelwald – wanted to us, wizards, that is, to rule over everyone, including the Muggles. Like Professor McGonagall said, he wanted to keep the wizarding world pure, but my dad says that was less important to him than the world domination bit. A new Dark Wizard might prefer to deliberately get rid of people in the wizarding world who don't fit his definition of pure."

"Like Muggleborns and half bloods, you mean," Mary MacDonald put in. In the flickering light of the fire she seemed glow, so pale was she.

James nodded.

"But the Diggles aren't Muggleborn," Meta said.

Her sister glanced at her. "No, but they're not old pureblood either, as the Blacks are, or the Malfoys – "

"Or the McGonagalls," Gideon Prewett said with a grin.

The juniors twisted and saw that the audience had expanded to include the sixth form, who had more freedom over their prep time than the lower school.

Meta, turning back, realised that Minerva's eyes were fixed on her rather than the sixth former, and she frowned a little. Minerva looked away, quickly, and Meta felt something knot and lie heavy in her stomach, like a Muggle boiled sweet swallowed whole.

She hardly heard the rest of their discussion, and hardly cared when Minerva rose to go. The common room filled with noise that Meta heard only as a dull background roar. Finally she realised that someone was shaking her, that someone was calling her name.

She blinked and looked into Lily's wide eyes. "Are you O.K.?"

Meta nodded and swallowed.

Lily dropped her hands and flipped her copper curls away from her face. "Your sister wants you."

"Why?"

Lily was looking at her strangely. "I don't know. She just said before she went that she wants you to go to her rooms tonight."

Meta blinked again. "Her rooms? Not her office?"

"Her rooms," Lily confirmed.

Meta nodded and pulled out her Charms exercise book. Calmly, she began to work her way through Professor Flitwick's prep for the next day. Everyone was staring at her, she knew. They expected her to jump because Minerva had said so, but she wouldn't. After hearing her sister's words, and James's, and Gideon's, she knew what Minerva wanted to say, wanted to warn her about.

But she didn't want to know. If she pretended it couldn't happen, it wouldn't.

She remembered her father. "Always remember, Meleta, that names and words have power, and it's a double-edged sword. To speak a thing could give you power over it – or it power over you. So remember, child, be careful of your words, lest that you speak comes to pass."

So Meleta McGonagall ignored her sister's summons, buried herself in her homework, and tried to believe that her world had not just experienced a seismic shift.


	9. Chapter 6

_Whoo! At last I've decided to return to this and I hope that there's people still reading. If you are, please please tell me whether you want me to continue, for, to be honest, I know how the story is going to unfold. I don't need to write it out, but I'd very much appreciate the encouragement and incentive to write it out, especially since by my reckoning we're about 40% through the story. Anyway, 'nuff said..._

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**_C H A P T E R S I X : A Warning Unheard_**

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"Please wait a moment, Miss McGonagall."

Minerva watched as her young sister stepped out of the line stampeding for the door of the Transfiguration classroom, and sighed. The girl stood to one side as ordered, her eyes flitting everywhere but in the direction of her Head of House, rather as if she thought she was a mouse and Professor McGonagall a rampaging cat intent on having her for lunch.

Minerva waved her wand to close the door as Remus Lupin and Lily Evans sidled out, clearly as reluctant to leave their friend as she was to be left. "Didn't you get my message last night?" she demanded. turning to Meta. She'd always believed in going straight to the heart of things, and she wasn't going to stop now.

The girl mumbled something that even Minerva's feline enhanced hearing did not catch.

"Meleta!"

Meta looked up, her grey eyes turned to slate. "I've already told you not to call me that!"

"Miss McGonagall, I will not tolerate impertinence from you!"

"That's easy for you to say!" Meta flung back at her furiously. "So long as I'm good an' polite an' all that, you'll be a nice sister, but as soon as I lose it a bit you'll come the Head of House over me. What're you going to next, take points?!"

Minerva sighed again. She hated to admit it, but the child had a point. She came round from behind her desk and summoned a couple of chairs with a quick flick. Keeping her eyes fixed on Meta, she took one herself and indicated the other. "Sit. Please."

Meta stayed where she was, and Minerva tutted. "Goodness, child, you really are a McGonagall! Are you going to sit or not?"

An unwilling quirk curved the corner of the girl's mouth. "That's what Mum always says."

"We McGonagalls are a stubborn breed," the older woman agreed, secretly delighted that Meta seemed to be relaxing somewhat. "Although don't let her fool you - Rosa can be every bit as bad."

"I'm worse," Rosa's daughter said gloomily, sitting down almost tentatively. "Mum always says that -" She broke off suddenly and Minerva raised an eyebrow to prompt her to continue, but the child remained quiet.

"You're worrying about what Mr Potter had to say last night, I know," Minerva began cautiously. "That's what I wanted to speak to you about, but I-"

"I don't want to hear it," Meta said fiercely.

Minerva felt some of her patience evaporate. "Meleta, dark days are coming for the wizarding world. I don't need to be a Seer to be sure of that!" She sniffed. "There's ... rumblings against Muggle-borns and half-bloods in some quarters, and you must face the facts. Your mother married my father and broke five hundred years of tradition in doing so. That automatically -"

"Don't say it!" Meta implored, her grey eyes wide. "You mentioned Papa just now. Don't you remember what he used to say?"

"About what?"

"Words. Using them. How they can make things real..." Meta shuddered.

Minerva fought down a pang of ancient bitterness. "Is what you think? That if you don't talk about what's happening then it can't be real?"

"Mum says, 'be careful what you ask for, you may get it,'" the girl returned. "Isn't it the same thing? Don't say it, _please_."

"Our father must have gone soft in his dotage," Minerva said, trying to speak lightly. "I don't remember him saying anything of the kind to me." _No, four decades ago Jove McGonagall was too absorbed in his own career to give much thought or time to his elder daughter. Apparently he'd remedied that with the younger..._

"Maybe he did and you just don't remember," Meta said with the airy mercilessness of youth. "It was a long time ago."

Minerva eyed the young girl over the top of her glasses, teacher-fashion. "Not _that _long ago," she said drily, "and my memory is better than you give it credit for, Miss McGonagall."

Meta visibly flinched at her tone. "See, there you go again! I say something you don't like and it's back to being my teacher!" She huffed and flung herself back in her chair, and Minerva gritted her teeth and wondered, yet again, how she'd managed to keep her sanity in the fifteen years since she'd started dealing with temperamental teenagers on a daily basis.

Noting the hard set to the girl's jaw, she lifted her shoulders in a near-shrung and rose to her feet. She was a busy woman and there was no point in wasting her time. "Very well. It's clear that on some level we're both worried about the same thing, but if you won't talk about it...." Her gaze softened despite herself. "Meta, I know this is a difficult situation for both of us, but unless you want to ask your mother to move you elsewhere, we need to deal with it for the next seven years. If you can't talk to me, find someone you can talk to - an adult, I mean, not Lily Evans and company. Professor Sprout -"

"I hate plants and Professor Sprout is always mucky," Meta said grumpily and inaccurately, for her sister had heard only positive things about Meta in the greenhouses.

"Now you _are_ being impertinent," Minerva told her severely. "Stop it. You know what I mean. If you want to continue in a blissful haze of ignorance, I won't stop you, although I do feel you're being very foolish about it. Here. Have a Ginger Newt and begone with you!"

Suprisingly meekly, considering, Meta accepted the proffered biscuit and left the room as fast as her feet could carry her, whilst her sister sank back into the chair behind her desk with a groan. Why couldn't Meleta have been Sorted into another house, she wondered resentfully. Rosa would expect her to watch out for the child as it was, but trying to walk the line between sister and Head of House ... and always, always there was the nagging dread that she might find herself doing more. _I am not a mother,_ she thought as she Vanished the chairs, and summoned her pile of books. _I made that choice a long time ago. I hope it is not going to be taken away from me now._

Much to Minerva's relief, the next few days passed with particular incident amongst the students, although the atmosphere in the staffroom was becoming increasingly tense. Dumbledore seemed to spend more time at the Ministry than he did at the school, and some of the Sixth took to swooping around Hogwarts with an air of gleefully restrained menace that disturbed their Deputy Headmistress more than she cared to admit. Paperwork stopped for no man or woman, however, and Dumbledore's absence meant that Minerva spent more time than ever in the tower room, frequently working long hours into the night in an attempt to keep up with the essentials of keeping a large school running smoothly.

At the end of the week, Minerva was sitting in the staffroom catching up with some marking and basking in the quiet and often random chatter of her colleagues. Their little oasis of calm was broken when Sir Nicholas wafted through the walls, looking more annoyed than she had ever seen him look

She looked up. "Trouble, Nick?" In public the official ghost of Gryffindor House was always 'Sir Nicholas' to its housemistress, but in private she reverted to schoolgirl nomenclature.

"I'm sorry, Minerva, but there's a small riot brewing outside your common room," the ghost began apologetically.

"Nothing new there, then," Kettleburn muttered from the across the room, winking. Minerva conjured a cushion and threw it at him, enjoying his look of astonishment when the harmless-seeming cushion exploded, turning out to be filled with pepper that set him sneezing furiously. She smirked and turned to leave.

"Couldn't my prefects deal with it?" she demanded crossly of Sir Nicholas as soon as the staffroom door closed behind them.

If a ghost could look sheepish, Nick did.

She huffed and began moving towards the hallway and the bottom of the stairs. "I suppose that means they're up to the eyes in it. Really, I can't think what possessed Albus and I to allow those Prewett boys - Mercy! Is that the riot you're talking about?"

"I'm afraid so," Nick said.

Minerva did not wait a moment longer. She dwindled down into her tabby form and began to run, her small paws eating up the distance between the staff room and the entrance to Gryffindor Tower much more quickly than she would have managed as a woman. She was not even winded as she forced her way into the melee and cast a rapid petrifying spell that froze the combatants where they stood. Then she turned and glared at the audience, and watched with some satisfaction as most of them melted away, clearly unwilling to risk the Deputy Headmistress's wrath.

With another flick of her wand, she returned the power of speech to the petrified students. "Well?! What excuse can you possibly have for this brawl - and on the stairs, too! Someone could have been _hurt_!"

The smirk on Ted Nott's face told her that was probably the plan, and her temper began to fray. "Gideon Prewett!"

The redhead looked wary. "Yes, Professor?"

His Head of House speared him with her eyes. "Don't you 'yes, Professor' me, Mr Prewett! You know very well what I meant! What happened - and how did these children get involved?"

Prewett's eyes followed hers onto the gang of first years who were in a frozen huddle. "Well," he began. "Er-"

"Get on with it, man!"

"Er, well, you see, Professor, Nott here was taunting the kids. You know, threatening them and that. He said-"

"I told them the truth," Nott sneered.

"He said that what happened to Charles and Lewis Diggle was only the beginning," Gideon continued, lifting his voice so as to be heard over the mutterings of the Slytherins on the one hand and the murmurings of the 'firsties' on the other. "He told them they're blots on the wizarding landscape and genetic freaks who should be eliminated-"

"He said _WHAT_?" Minerva could not prevent her voice from rising to a pitch that made the students beside her visibly wince. They could not back away, after all.

Now that he'd started, Gideon clearly had no problems continuing, and his voice became harder as he went on. "Then he said we'd be picked off one by one, like flies in a spider's web. Lily and the Brown girl because they're Muggleborn, Meta because her mother is, Sirius and Gwen and us because we're blood traitors, apparently, and Remus because -"

"That's quite enough, Mr Prewett," Minerva interjected swiftly. _Merlin, how many of them heard...?_ "I get the idea. I hope," she went on frostily to the Gryffindors, "that all of you have enough sense to know not to heed these lies. You are not what he said. You are all valued members of the wizarding community, and that is why you are here - because you all have something powerful inside you and you need to be trained in the use of it. Understood?"

They nodded as one. Alice and Lily had tears on their cheeks, she noted, and Remus was so white that for a moment she contemplated sending the boy to the hospital wing - but wouldn't that only lend credence to Nott's poisoned words, even if in that specific case he spoke truly? There were no tears on the cheeks of the other children, but she found the burning blackness of their eyes even more worrying. She touched her wand to each child she wished to release from the petrification spell and urged them into the safety of their common room. She would need to see Poppy Pomfrey about sleeping draughts for some of them, she thought, as each clambered with trembling clumsiness through the hole in the wall. Finally only Prewett was left, and she gave him a pat on the shoulder as he followed his juniors in. He was, she thought with an affection that she would never show, a good boy.

When the Fat Lady materialised over the hole once more, looking more furious that Minerva had ever seen Gryffindor's placid guardian look, she turned back to the four Slytherins who stood behind her, still frozen in attitudes that told her exactly how physically threatening they had been to the youngest and most vulnerable of her cubs.

"I don't want to hear a single word," she told them, her voice hissing through her teeth in a suitably snake-like manner. "Until now, I've always admired your house. Ambition and cunning can be wonderful things, and that drive can do so much for our world. But - and it's a big but - you've used it only to terrify and hurt. If you want the wizarding world to look on the Serpent with dislike and fear for generation upon generation to come, you're going the right way about getting it!" She stopped before her Scots burr became so pronounced as to make her incoherent, and looked at the students in turn. her eyes falling on Nott, Avery, the younger Black girl, and Malfoy, hoping against hope to see some glimmer of contrition or guilt.

She saw none. Malfoy's well-cut upper lip curled in a supercilious grin, and he bowed with ironic gallantry. "Have you finished, Professor?"

She let the breath she did not know she had been holding go. "_I_ have, but you have not heard the last of this. Malfoy, you've already been warned once this term. Do you want to be expelled, so close to doing your NEWTs?"

Lucius lifted one shoulder in an elegant shrug. "I won't be," he said simply. "The Board would never dare."

_I wish I could tell him he's wrong in that_, Minerva thought grimly, but she knew - and he knew that she knew - he was right. The Malfoys were enormously wealthy and they had poured almost unlimited funds into Hogwarts' coffers over the years. No child of that family would be expelled, no matter how much they deserved it. With another wave of her wand she disarmed them, ignoring the cries of anger and annoyance that rose.

"The use of magic is a responsibility and a privilege," she told them fiercely. "Not a right. You have abandoned your responsility and you do not deserve the privilege. Come with me."

She raised an eyebrow as supercilious as one of Malfoy's best efforts when they tried to protest and failed, and again when they trailed after her to the Come and Go room, where she intended to confine them in comfort - she would not do less - until they could be dealt with by Slughorn and Dumbledore. She could feel their puzzled and murderous gazes on her back as they went. Few people knew that the McGonagalls had a trace of power that went beyond magic - something similar to, and yet not, the Imperius Curse. When she gave a command in a particular voice with particular intention, it was almost impossible to disobey. Certainly none of the young witches and wizards behind her were powerful enough to gainsay it, and Minerva took some comfort in that. At least, even in Albus's absence, she could protect her own in some small way.

She shivered as the sullen Slytherins entered the Room of Requirement on the word, knowing that their glances promised retribution - somewhere, somehow - and some future date, and that all her efforts could never be enough. There was darkness coming.


	10. Chapter 7

You guessed it: please, please review! I really do take what people say on board, and as all ff writers know, there's no incentive like feedback...

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**Chapter 7: Interesting Times**

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"I wish it'ud stop raining," Lily Evans grumbled as she looked at the water streaming relentlessly down the diamond paned windows of the Gryffindor common room one evening some six weeks into the term. "It's done nothing else ever since we came and I'm _sick_ of it!"

"What d'you expect, it_ is _Scotland in October," Remus pointed out with his usual good sense.

"No-o-o, I think it's more than that," Meta said, her eyes following Lily's to the window. She shivered. "Can't you feel it? It's not just wet - it's miserable! Even the teachers are in a bad mood."

"They've always been in a bad mood," returned Lily. "Everyone says that Professor Flitwick is jolly and never shouts at anyone like - like Professor McGonagall does, f'r'instance. Look at what happened this morning, nothing jolly about him then!"

Remus and Meta exchanged a grin. "To be fair, Sirius did kind of deserve it," Meta said, looking, with her eyes narrowed, disturbingly like her sister at that moment. "He shouldn't have done that, it wasn't fair on Severus."

"Sev was furious," Lily remembered, her green eyes taking on a harder glint. "It's not his fault his family hasn't got any money, and he hates it, Sev does, and just because Sirius Black is loaded -"

"Don't be too hard on Sirius," Remus put in before she could work up a good steam. "It's not so awfully easy for him either."

Lily snorted. "Poor little Sirius, all his stuff is brand new and he's a pureblood and he never has difficulty with anything,_ ever_-"

"His mum's a right cow, and his dad is furious with him for not getting into Slytherin. Threatened to whip him every-which-ways the next time he's home."

"Is that why he doesn't like Severus?" Meta asked with real curiosity. "'Cos he's in Slytherin and Sirius isn't?"

"Oooh no. Sirius is awfully pleased he's in Gryffindor. He doesn't like Severus 'cos he thinks Severus is suckin' up to Lucius Malfoy and the Blacks, and what's more, he's got James thinking the same. Or maybe James never liked Severus anyway, 'cos he's just as clever as James is and he and Sirius don't like getting whupped by a 'slimy Slytherin git' in lessons."

"Well, it's not right, and you can tell 'em so," Meta said severely. "My mum says that Hogwarts is like a building. It needs all four of its houses equally or things go wonky."

"Says she whose sister is Head of Gryffindor," Lily jeered.

Meta's cheeks flushed but she stuck to her guns. "My sister isn't just Head of Gryffindor, she's also Deputy Headmistress, remember."

"Oooooh! Aren't you lucky!" came a voice behind them, and the three turned to see James Potter and Sirius Black, together as always.

Meta's eyes narrowed, but Remus spoke up. "Meta says we shouldn't be mean to the Slytherins." Sirius darted Meta a distinctly unfriendly look and Remus's voice trembled a little, but he continued. "She says Hogwarts needs all four houses to stand -"

Sirius's eyes closed into slits, and for a moment he reminded Meta of his cousin, Bellatrix. "That's tripe. Need Slytherin, do we? Look what the slimy, evil gits have done now!" He slammed that day's issue of the _Daily Prophet _down in front of them and jabbed at the headline. "See that? 'TWENTY MUGGLES DEAD. MAGIC OR NOT?' Twenty people, Meta, right bang in central London -"

"It could've been Muggles," Lily said suddenly. "It could've. It could be the IRA -"

"Muggles can't kill twenty people at once," Sirius scoffed.

James looked worried. "They can, though. Don't you remember our Muggle history lessons? They've got bombs. In one go that can kill nearly as many people as a _Avada Kedavra Maxima_."

"A what?" Remus goggled.

"It kills all the people in a stated area," James explained, looking guilty. "If the normal Killing Curse gets you sent to Azkaban, the _Maxima_ gets you executed. Automatically. Without a trial."

"How'd you know all this?" Sirius asked, looking rather sick.

James's face reddened a little. "I'm not supposed to," he confessed, "My uncle's an Auror and er, he's not always, um, careful about checking where I am before he starts talking."

"You mean you _eavesdropped_," Meta accused, standing very straight.

"Oh stop being such a little goody-good," Sirius snapped. "Just 'cos your sister is Professor McGonagall -"

"I'm_ not _a goody-good!" Meta shouted back. "I believe in people having some honour, and not hating others just 'cos of what_ house _they're in-"

"MR BLACK! MISS MCGONAGALL! How dare you?"

The two combatants swung around to see their Head of House, who was standing with her hand on the shoulder of a boy they recognised as Charles Diggle, the Slytherin who had been tortured some weeks before. Suddenly terrified, Meta swallowed hard and stole a glance at Sirius. She was relieved to see that he looked almost as anxious as she felt.

"Professor, I can explain -" James began, causing Meta to gasp at his temerity.

"I don't want to hear it, Mr Potter," Professor McGonagall told him frostily. "There's enough dissension within the wizarding world at the moment without you children bringing it into the very walls of the castle - aye, our common room! Miss McGonagall, Mr Black, detention for both of you every night for the rest of the week. Come to my office after supper this evening and I'll tell you what you need to do then. Not another _word_, Mr Black!"

Sirius shut his mouth so abruptly that Meta could hear the 'snap' as his teeth met, and she winced. She looked up through her lashes at her sister, and winced again. Minerva was white and her lips were pinched into a thin bloodless line that added at least twenty years to her age. Was it just anger or something more -?

Professor McGonagall took a deep breath and seemed to regain some control. "Gryffindors, I have something to tell you." This time she did not raise her voice, but she spoke with a clarity that pierced even the particularly violent wizarding chess game taking place at the back of the room. Everyone fell silent and turned to look at her, and the older ones, the Sixth Formers, instantly looked almost as ill as Professor McGonagall did, and the coiling unease in Meta's stomach tightened again.

"There have been several attacks on Muggle London," their Head of House told them heavily. "At this time it is not clear whether the attacks are magical or Muggle in origin. Those of you who know something of Muggle politics will be aware that it could easily be the former" - Lily threw Sirius a triumphant glance - "but there is a very good chance that at least one attack was magical. The Ministry is currently investigating. As it is, however, early reports indicate that as many as one hundred people have died. We will let you know if any of you students have been directly affected." She paused and looked at them, and Meta saw her brows contract in worry. Turning, Meta could see why. Lily and Rosemary Brown and Mary McDonald had turned greenish white, and those were just the Muggleborns that she knew off the top of her head.

_This is real_, she told herself. _Papa was wrong. It doesn't matter whether I speak it or not, it's all really happening..._

"I have another matter to inform you of," Minerva was saying, and Meta dragged her attention back to her sister. "You all know what happened to Mr Diggle here in the courtyard at the beginning of term. For various reasons, it has become clear that he is no longer entirely safe in Slytherin, not least because his family is, traditionally, Gryffindor. We have taken the unusual decision to resort him, and until then, he will be treated as an honorary Gryffindor. Is that clear?"

"What happens if he gets sorted back into Slytherin?" Gwen Weasley asked.

"He will be," Meta heard Sirius mutter under his breath. "Once a Slytherin, always a Slytherin..."

"Perhaps we should resort you too, Mr Black," Professor McGonagall told him sharply. "No? I thought not. Kindly be quiet or you'll find that you'll have two weeks of detention instead of one." She turned to the boy who had shrunk back towards her at Sirius's words. "Mr Diggle, would you like me to answer Miss Weasley's question?" Charles Diggle nodded. "Very well. Mr Diggle has undergone a series of strenuous interviews with all four Heads of House. We are as sure as we can be that he will_ not _be resorted into Slytherin." Her stern face softened and she went on.

"You know, I've often heard the Headmaster say that we sort too soon, and that House placings should not be irrevocable. How many of you, I wonder, were sorted into Gryffindor not because you have true courage, but because you have the brave recklessness of youth? That is not enough. Similarly, there are reasons why you might find yourselves sorted into the other Houses at eleven that would not necessarily hold true at thirteen, or fifteen, or eighteen." Her eyes went to Sirius and Meta. "I overheard some of the argument as I came in. Your houses matter whilst you are here - they are, as I have told you, your family. But think for a moment - think of your own families. Would you wish to have contact only with them and with no-one else? If you value your relationships with others beyond your blood families, think about how you can put that into practice here at school." She gave Charles a gentle push in the direction of his sister and then left with a reminder to Sirius and Meta that she expected to see them in her office at seven o'clock _sharp_.

After being condemned to spending the rest of their evenings together for the next week doing who-knows-what, Meta and Sirius made an effort to be civil to one another that evening at supper. This gained Meta a dark look from Severus Snape, who evidently disliked Sirius as much as Sirius disliked him, but Meta simply stalked off to her detention after supper with her head held high. It was even more unpleasant than Professor McGonagall's detentions usually were. Her last class that day had involved turning slugs into butterflies. Several students had not managed the task, and, as a result, there was a nasty oozing residue left on a good number of desks. Sirius and Meta were handed toothbrushes and a bucket of water between them, and told to scour the desks until they were completely de-slimed. The two students exchanged rueful glances and set to work under their Head of House's stern eye. Two hours later they were finally done, and despatched back to the Tower.

"Great," Sirius groaned as they dodged the staircases. "It's nearly nine now and we'll be sent to bed soon. I still had Charms and Potions to finish for tomorrow!"

Meta grimaced in sympathy. "Minerva would say it's your own fault for not doing the stuff earlier, but I won't. I still have Herbology to do myself."

"Ask Frank to give you a hand before we go back," Sirius suggested.

"Yeah, an' like you said, it's nearly bedtime. Can you see me going to Hufflepuff at this time?"

"It was only an idea," Sirius returned huffily.

"I know. Keep your wig on. I say, why don't you ask Severus to help with the Potions in the morning? He's really good, even better than Lily."

"I'd rather go to Azkaban than ask that Slytherin git for anything!"

Meta sighed. "Honestly, Sirius -"

"Don't waste your time, Meta," came another voice from the top of the staircase. "I'd sell my soul rather than help Black."

Meta huffed. "What do you want, Severus?"

"He's with me," a silky voice said as Lucius Malfoy came up and put his hand on Severus's shoulder. "You two, however, are dangerously near breaking curfew -"

"We were with Professor McGonagall," Meta said swiftly, her grip firm on Sirius's arm.

"Ah yes. I'm afraid that detention does not count as a valid excuse," Lucius sneered. "No. I won't punish you - yet. You have ten seconds to get to your house or you'll have to take whatever I dish out. Ten -"

"He is the gittiest git of all," Sirius forced out as they struggled to run up the remaining stairs. They weren't moving as fast as they should be.

"-Eight -"

"Don't waste your breath," Meta panted as they finally made the landing. "Ouch!" she cried, dodging a stinging hex.

Sirius glanced back. "Not going to help your friend, Snape?"

He doubled over as three stinging hexes were cast at once, and Meta ran back from the Fat Lady. "Sirius!"

"-Five," Lucius drawled. "Not doing too well, are you?"

Meta ignored him and instead focused on helping Sirius to the Fat Lady. She flung a panicked look at the prefect. House passwords were supposed to be kept secret, but she suspected that Lucius and Severus would overhear whatever she said, and the countdown was continuing -

"Severus!" she hissed, but the boy, looking oddly triumphant, did nothing.

"Threeeeeee..." said Lucius, a smile spreading over his aristocratic features.

Meta tore her eyes from Severus and swallowed. Sirius was groaning and she hated to think what else Lucius could come up with. Throwing caution to the winds, she began to bang the portrait as hard as she could, ignoring the Fat Lady's annoyed protests.

"Twooooo...."

"Please!" she yelled.

"One-"

The portrait opened suddenly from inside, causing Meta to fall back. Lucius advanced on them.

"What is going on out here?" someone asked, and the Gryffindors turned in relief to Fabian Prewett, who was eyeing Lucius in some disgust.

"Prewett. Just making sure your firsties got back before curfew," Lucius explained, smiling with some malice as the two First Years practically fell into the portrait hole.

"Right," Fabian said sardonically. "I'm sure they'll remember in future." With that, he closed the portrait again and turned on Meta and Sirius, who had collasped on the chair nearest the door.

"What happened there?" he demanded as James, Lily and Remus came up.

Meta surprised everyone, including herself, by promptly bursting into tears. Sirius made an odd noise and promptly moved away from her, looking decidedly embarrassed. Lily sent him a glare before perching next to Meta, her arm protectively around her friend.

"I-I-I'm sorry to be such an-an idiot," Meta hiccoughed a few minutes later after some hard crying.

"You're still leaking," Remus noted detachedly, handing her his hankie.

She smiled tremulously and mopped up. "Thanks. Ew, it's nasty..."

"Just clean it, Meta," Gwen Weasley advised from the floor.

"H-How?"

Gwen grinned. "Didn't your mum ever show you? Like so! _Scourgify_!" She tapped her wand in the direction of the manky handkerchief in the younger girl's hand and it sparkled for a moment before fading to the painfully pristine state it had been in when Remus handed it over.

"Are you going to tell us what happened?" Lily asked once Meta seemed more or less herself again.

Her friend turned red. "Nothing much did," she confessed.

"Apart from Lucius-poker-up-his-arse-Malfoy being a git as usual," Sirius said.

"Really, Sirius, you're getting awfully boring," chided James. "Can't you think of something more original than 'git'?"

Sirius's grey eyes became thoughtful, and the others looked at each other and grinned. Lily, however, was not one to let an injury to a friend drop, and she persisted.

"But what did Malfoy do?"

"Threatened us for being out of house so close to curfew even though we told him we'd been with Minerva," Meta explained with a scowl. "Then he threatened us with something else if we didn't get back before nine..."

"Nothing much wrong with that," Gwen observed. "He's a slippery one, that Malfoy, but he _is_ a prefect."

"Yes, and I'd like to know who was behind that," Gideon Prewett muttered. "Was that all?"

"He cast _Impedimenta_ and stinging hexes to make it hard for us to get back," Sirius said, his voice very hard. He turned on Lily. "And that mate of yours, Evans, he's a rotter through and through."

"Severus?" Lily was clearly puzzled.

"Yeah. He was there. I called to him and he did nothing to help even though we could've been hurt and Sirius almost _was_," Meta said, a steely glint in her eyes. She turned away from the others. "I thought he was s'posed to be our _friend_. Friends help each other when the need to." She sounded muffled.

A series of mutterings came from the others at this, including comments such as, "Well, what did they expect from a Slytherin?" and "Slytherin-Gryffindor friendships always end badly..." and "Nasty little so-and-so. Wait til I get my hands on him..". The final remark came from Fabian Prewett, and it was to him that Lily turned.

"No. You can't."

There was a moment of shocked silence.

"Evans, you're not _sticking up _for the git, are you?" Sirius asked incredulously whilst James muttered, "New adjectives mate, new adjectives."

Lily stood firm. "You don't know him like I do, any of you. He's not bad, honestly he's not.... " She bit her lip. "He's always been picked on by other people, at home, at school, everything. He's just trying to keep himself _safe_."

Sirius snorted but the older ones looked thoughtful. "No-one really knows what goes on inside Slytherin house," Gwen noted.

"I do," came a soft voice behind them and they turned to look at Charles Diggle, who was standing very straight, a hectic flush scarlet against his pale skin.

The Prewetts exchanged a glance, but it was Fabian who spoke. "So you do, mate. What do _you_ think about all this?"

"Lily's right," the Third Year said softly. "Malfoy hates Gryffindors, he hates anyone who doesn't toe his family's pureblood line. He especially hates people like Meta, who has a Muggleborn mother who married into an old family, and Sirius, who is everything a Black shouldn't be." Sirius looked surprised and then oddly pleased. "He's not one for inter-house anything, Malfoy isn't."

"Would he _hurt_ Sev if he was seen talking to us?" Lily asked, her green eyes very troubled.

"_He_ wouldn't," Charles replied with a shudder, and an awkward silence fell as they remembered why he was there.

"He'd get other people to do it for him, wouldn't he?" James put in. His voice dropped. "Just like they did to you."

Gideon rubbed his hands over his face and sighed. "Kids, we really shouldn't be talking like this, and it's time the firsties were in bed-" but Meta turned on him, her eyes glittering with anger or possibly unshed tears.

"No, we won't. We're all in this, don't you see?" She rubbed her arms. "Don't you remember what Min - Professor McGonagall said? Bad stuff is happening out there, isn't it, and that's why the Diggles have been targeted, and why you Thirds couldn't go to Hogsmeade an' the staff are so grumpy all the time an' - an' it's so _cold_."

"It _is_ almost Hallowe'en," Gwen pointed out, but Fabian shook his head, looking more serious than anyone had ever seen him look.

"She's got a point, Gwen. It's not normal cold, is it, look at us, some of us are still shivering right here next to the fire."

"It feels like grief," Alice Diggle said suddenly from where was standing next to her brother. "It feels like everything that makes you sad."

"Or frustrated or angry," Charles added, his thin face grave.

The common room became very quiet, broken only by small rustlings as the Gryffindors moved closer to each other, as if seeking for warmth or protection. Something creaked and someone screamed, causing them all to jump, their faces glowing in the reflected red of the tapestries and the firelight.

Gideon sighed and broke the spell. "All right people, that really is enough. You'll be giving yourselves nightmares at this rate. We're all safe in the tower, remember? Nothing can touch us here." He sounded falsely cheery, as if he was trying to convince himself.

Another Sixth former slapped him on the back. "Keep telling yourself that, mate." He turned to scowl at the younger children, still huddled together. "Squirts, it's time for you lot to scram or I'll be giving you nightmares!"

"You aren't a prefect," Sirius mumbled rebelliously, but it was half-hearted.

"No, but I am, and he's right," Gideon said. "All of you - yes, even you Seconds and Thirds - scram!" And warned by the look in his eyes, they did.


	11. Chapter 8 part 1

Thanks to all my reviewers for your encouraging and thoughtful comments, notably **_Sarapha, Victoria Grant_** and _**Asterix Tutnix**_. Thanks also to: **_so this is real life, blpaul_** and **_Duchene-fan_**. Keep those comments coming!

This is the first part of a multi-part eight chapter.

Oh, and a beta would be great. I keep coming across silly mistakes *after* I've posted, which just goes to show that no matter how vigilant you are, proofing your own work is _not_ a piece of cake.

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**Chapter Eight: Halloween and Hogsmeade**

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Professor McGonagall had spoken truly when she said that at least one of the attacks on London were perpetrated through magic. As the days went by and the bodies of the dead were identified, student after student was pulled out of lessons in order to be sent to the office behind the gargoyle. As might have been expected, the Muggleborn and halfblood children bore the brunt of the atrocities, but even the purebloods were not exempt.

A pall of sorrow hung over the school that blunted activities both in and out of the classroom, and a waiting hush often pervaded the common rooms in the evening as the students cast frightened glances at each other, awaiting the next summons from Professor Dumbledore. Therefore, when Professor McGonagall clambered through Gryffindor's portrait hole before breakfast on the third morning after the news came, she was met by a concerted inhalation of fear.

Gideon Prewett rose from the sofa where he'd been deep in conversation with fellow sixth year, Matthew Spinnet, his brother Fabian, Gwen Weasley, and Algie Longbottom. His cheekbones were chiselled hard by firelight. "Who is it this time, Professor?" he asked grimly.

Minerva blinked. "I beg your pardon, Mr Prewett -" and then realisation dawned and she moved her hands in an involuntary expression of distress. "No._ No_. That's not why I'm here." She glanced around at her Gryffindors, and felt her throat become tight as she saw how slowly they relaxed. She tried to smile. "The opposite, in fact. Tomorrow night is Halloween, and the Headmaster has decided to have a party."

She was not certain whether the answering rustle was one of surprise, pleasure, or shock, and went on with her usual briskness. "Tomorrow night, students, we are going to be reviving one of the school's old traditions by having a Magical Masque." She stopped and looked over her glasses. "I expect all of you to be there, your most ingenious disguises in place-"

"Disguises?" several voices asked at once.

One corner of Minerva's mouth quivered. "Disguises. During Transfiguration today and tomorrow you will all be taught some simple self-transfiguration spells. Professors Slughorn and Flitwick may also do work with you on the relevant Potions and Charms. Please note, however, that none of these will be permanent!" She glared at a couple of third year girls who had become rather too giggly lately for her liking and nodded slightly as they blushed. "You may come as anything or anyone you like. Your disguises will work only until midnight-"

"Like Cinderella," Rosemary Brown murmured.

"-and then you will become yourselves once more." Minerva's lips quivered again. "Do remember that if any of you are tempted to - er - emulate any of your professors that we teachers _are_ rather good at magic and I can assure you that any retribution we visit upon you for such actions will not be ... pleasant."

Everyone grinned. Fabian placed his hand on his heart and looked wounded. "Ah, Professor, you've just killed my idea stone dead-"

"That _was_ the plan, Prewett," Minerva returned snippily. "So, you will come in appropriate disguises. The Headmaster is parleying with the house-elves to provide a feast such as has never been seen before at Hogwarts, and there will be dancing." Her voice rose in order to be heard above the excited murmur that was growing. "Naturally, I expect you all to be on your best behaviour and to ensure that we all - yes, all - enjoy our night." She nodded at them and left, smiling slightly as the sound of excited chatter followed her.

As the Headmaster and his Deputy had planned, the mood of the school lifted significantly over the next two days. Professors Sprout, Vector, Binns, and Kettleburn complained that never had their students been so inattentive, whilst their colleagues in Transfiguration, Potions and Charms said smugly that _their_ classes were impeccably behaved. On the day of the Masque lessons finished at their usual time of four o'clock, but instead of going to the Great Hall for afternoon tea and then to their houses for prep, everyone fled straight back to their dormitories to get ready. As Lily Evans panted to Meta and Rosemary during their own mad dash for Gryffindor Tower, three hours wasn't any too much time to prepare, especially when you didn't know _that_ much magic to begin with.

When Minerva entered the Great Hall shortly before seven, she could not help the gasp of admiration that caught in her throat. Flitwick had excelled himself, charming the medieval Great Hall to resemble the magical _Galerie des Glaces _at the _Chateau de Versailles_ with all its light and gold and sparkle.

"What do you think, Minerva?" he squeaked, and she looked down with a smile.

"It's marvellous - absolutely transformed. The children will love it."

Flitwick smirked. "It goes beyond the obvious too, my dear. Everything in this room is charmed to exude joy and peace."

Minerva's eyebrows went up, and she was surprised into a small burst of laughter. "But how Slytherin of you, Filius! With one stroke you've managed to ensure that we have a pleasant _and_ peaceful evening."

The small man's smirk widened and he gave a deep bow. "May I see you to your seat, my lady? Or," with a wicked glance upwards, "my goddess?"

Minerva felt her cheeks flush pink. "It was the easiest thing I could think of," she began defensively. "All it needed was a helmet and a book -"

Flitwick winked. "Never to mention some very fetching robes and a lovely hairstyle. Shall we?" and still pink, Minerva, garbed as her namesake, allowed him to lead her up to the High Table just in time to see the students start pouring in.

She stood, an unaccustomed smile on her face as she watched them. Then she spied the tall figure of the Headmaster towering above them as he tried to make his own way over to the table. He was dressed in vibrant red and pure white, a delighted look on his face as some students called out, "Good evening, Santa!". Several Ravenclaws rolled their eyes and yelled, "It's St Nicholas, you dunderheads!" and Professor Dumbledore rewarded them by waving his hand and causing sweets of all kinds to rain from the ceiling to general acclamation.

"I hope you enjoyed that," Minerva whispered tartly when he finally joined her.

He beamed. "Wonderful to see them so happy, is it not?" His smile widened as his eyes took in her very peremptory costume. "How - appropriate."

She scowled. "Don't you start. I've already been teased by Filius." Her eyes widened and she gripped his arm. "Albus, what is Kettleburn _doing_?" It was a hiss.

His eyes began to twinkle madly. "Er, it rather seems as if our dear colleague has been reading too many Muggle comics. Not that I blame him," he added as he watched his oddly-dressed Care of Magical Creatures teacher strut proudly through the startled - and, in some cases catcalling - students. "They really are most entertaining."

Minerva dug her nails into his arm. "But Albus, the man is _half-naked_!"

"Not really," he responded placidly. "I do believe it's just a glamour."

"That - is - not - the - point!" she grated through her teeth. "There are _teenage girls _here!" Her eyes narrowed to slits as Kettleburn, who was apparently dressed in very little more than a strategically wrapped piece of fabric, came up to them, looking insufferably smug.

"Ah, Romulus," Dumbledore said equably. "Tarzan, no?"

The other man grinned, showing all his teeth. "Or Mowgli. Tick your pick. Jungle Man, anyhow. What's the matter, Minerva? Don't I make a splendid figure of a man?" He struck a pose. A number of girls whooped hysterically and the Headmaster's eyes twinkled more than ever.

Minerva sniffed. "Such nonsense. At least the _rest_ of the staff had more sense," she added acerbically as their other colleagues sat down, all more or less dressed in keeping with their positions. "Even the _students _had more sense!"

Kettleburn looked annoyed. "It's all in fun. No need to be such a prude," and he sat down in a huff.

Minerva opened her mouth to respond when Dumbledore caught her eye and shook his head very gently. Taking the hint, she subsided and turned her attention to the students.

"I do like Miss McGonagall's effort," her employer said cheerfully at that point, causing her to seek a Meta-sized figure in the crowds thronging about the tables that lined the room around. This broke up the usual house formation and left floor-space for dancing later, but it did make it difficult to spot people. It took a moment for her to see through the spells that turned her young sister and her two dormitory mates into three crones complete with straggly grey hair, hooked noses, and oversized warts, and she nodded approvingly.

"That's not bad work at all," she said, trying not to sound too proud.

"She's not a bad student," piped up Filius just as Dumbledore flicked his wand and mountains of food appeared. "Not as brilliant as you were, perhaps," with a bow to Minerva, "but more than competent."

"Who are they supposed to be anyway?" Pomona Sprout asked, peering at the three over her plate of bangers and mash.

The years rolled away suddenly as Minerva grinned like a schoolgirl. "Probably they're the 'Three Witches' from _Macbeth_. My father always loved the play, even though Muggles foolishly believe it to be unlucky, and Meleta was brought up with it. It's a good choice for the other two," she added thoughtfully, "for both Miss Evans and Miss Brown are also very likely to know it."

"I see Muggle literature has provided the inspiration for another set of your Gryffindors," Flitwick squeaked. "See, there's Potter and Black and, oh dear me, is that Pettigrew? They're looking very dashing as the Three Musketeers."

"I'd have thought they'd have used Mr Lupin to make up their third," put in Professor Sprout. "I hate to speak ill of my students, but Pettigrew is - well, he's such a _colourless_ child."

"Mr Lupin is unfortunately ill in the hospital wing," Minerva returned smoothly, carefully not looking at Dumbledore. "He will not be with us tonight."

"Poor child. He really seems rather delicate, doesn't he? This is the third time he's been there in as many months. Perhaps I should have a word with Poppy about some new plants Hagrid bought me last week. They're supposed to have strengthening properties and -"

Minerva let the soft sound of her colleague's voice wash over her as she turned her attention back to the students. Once Pomona started about plants she could be left to entertain herself quite happily for some moments with little input from anyone else. She stiffened suddenly and put her hand on the Headmaster's arm.

"What's that?"

He glanced at her and then into the happy throng below. Someone in black - or was it several someones? - moved through the crowds, placing a hand on one student and then another.

"It is Halloween, after all," Dumbledore said thoughtfully as his eyes followed the wraith-seeming movements. "Perhaps someone has decided to come as that hoary favourite, the Grim Reaper."

"Several someones and they're being tactless to the point of cruelty if so," his Deputy snapped back. "It's only three days since the attacks on London and -"

"Peace, Minerva," soothed the old man. "I hear you. I will watch them, but at the moment it seems nothing more than another disguise. The students have been so jumpy lately that I believe we may trust them to alert us if something is amiss."

"And by then it may be too late!"

"Albus, there's some suspicious charm work going on there," Filus put in from the Headmaster's left. "We can focus through most of the glamours and spells used tonight, but those...."

"Leave it, Filius," Dumbledore said, his tone firm. "I am watching. The children are unharmed and the school is more tightly warded than ever. I do not believe anything evil could get through them."

"And what about the evil already _inside_ the school?" Minerva murmured, so quietly that even Albus gave no sign of hearing her.


	12. Chapter 8 part 2

_I honestly didn't intend for this chapter to become such a monster. I'm currently editing a 'real' book and having to write longer chapters for it, and it does seem to be spilling over here. Whether you think that's a good thing or a bad thing is up to you!_

_Please leave me some author-food and tell me what you think!_

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Meta tried to focus through the haze of gold and light and crystal and wondered if this was what it felt like to be drunk. She was happy. Deliriously, idiotically, mind-blowingly happy. All her worries about what was happening beyond the thick walls and wards of Hogwarts seemed to have dissipated like early morning mist in the sun. Her friends were with her - well, all except Remus who was ill again, poor thing - Minerva was watching from on high, and it seemed that every single bowl on each of the tables that stood against the walls of the Great Hall were filled with her favourite food. She gave a sigh of pure delight, and Lily grinned at her, her green eyes sparkling from behind the crone glamour.

"This is beyond smashing, isn't it?"

Meta returned her grin. "Aren't you glad you're not at a boring Muggle school?"

Lily's smile said it all for her, and feeling suddenly affectionate, Meta flung her arms around both Lily and Rosemary, causing the latter to look startled. "You're my bestest friends, you know that?"

"You're my bestest too!" Lily said with equal enthusiasm.

Rosemary smiled weakly and said nothing, but before the other two could pull her up, she turned sharply. "What was that?"

Meta's silly grin vanished. "What?"

"Someone just touched me!"

"'Course they did, it's a party if you haven't noticed. This place is bunged to the rafters!"

"Someone probably just brushed - hey, what was that?" Lily whirled and glared at Sirius Black, who happened to by standing near in his D'Artaganan costume. Beyond the clothes, a sword, a mustache, and the temporary bristle on his boy-smooth cheeks, he was not disguised. "Was that you, Black?"

Sirius twirled his mustache lovingly and tried to leer. "What have I done to offend you, fair lady - er, crone?"

Lily snorted. "Don't be such a donkey. Did you tap me - or Rosie?"

Sirius put his hands up. "'Twasn't me, ma'am, honest-"

"Can't you ever be serious?" Lily snapped back.

"Don't start him on that one, please," Meta implored. She had been watching while Lily quizzed Sirius, and all through the hall little scenes like theirs were repeating. She couldn't tell who all the 'victims' were, of course, but something niggled. She shrugged. "Someone's prob'ly just messing around, Lils. Leave it, do. You and Rosie aren't hurt, are you?"

Rosemary shivered despite the warmth of the hall. "No, b - but it was cold. Like being touched by a block of ice..."

Meta shrugged off the feeling of uneasiness. She was having fun. She was. She wasn't going to let anything spoil it. "It's all your imagination," she said impatiently. "C'mon, look, there's some Chocolate Fudge Flying Cakes. Didn't you tell me they were your favourites?" She reached out and grabbed one of the little chocolate fudge cakes with sugar wings that were hovering above the plate, and put one in her dormitory mate's hand. "Here. Shove that in your gob an' stop trying to scare us."

Rosemary looked upset. "But I wasn't, honestly..."

At that point the lights dimmed and everyone screamed, proving just how on edge they were. The screams died away as the gold and crystal was replaced by a series of multicoloured glowing lights that danced lazily across the ceiling, and some music began to play.

"It's Celestina Warbeck!" Meta heard one over-excited Third Year scream. "She's doing that song. 'A Cauldron of Hot Strong Love'.."

Meta sniffed and rolled her eyes. "Idiots," she muttered, but as the familiar strains of Warbeck's best known song began to float across the hall. Lily grabbed her hand, and they began to dance ... and then laugh as Sirius embarrassed poor Rosemary horribly by pretending to be courtly and elegant and then put the timid girl into such a fast spin that she shrieked to be allowed to stop. All around them everyone seemed to have forgotten the mysterious touching and Meta and her friends flung themselves into the fun, knowing that the great clock in the hall was already well past their normal 'lights out', and being able to stay up late was too rare a treat to be lost in nitpicking and worrying.

After another hour, the sound of Warbeck's latest 'hit' faded away and the coloured lights vanished to be replaced by the normal candles. Everyone groaned and Meta saw James and Sirius smirk at the number of Seniors who sprang apart, visibly flustered..

"It'ud be funny if some of those smarmy Slytherins ended up dancin' with a Gryff by mistake," Sirius chortled. "'Cos they'd never know, would they?"

"They will now," Meta reminded him. "It must be nearly midnight and Professor McGonagall says all the disguises will go then." The deep resonant gong went just as she spoke and she looked down at her hands, marvelling at how the charmed wrinkles and age-spots disappeared to show her fresh eleven year old skin. Beside her, Lily was rubbing her pretty nose thoughtfully, as if to check that it was bumpless, and Rosemary, who was vain about her silky brown locks, was running her fingers through her hair. Sirius and James looked rueful as they chaffed their boy-smooth cheeks, once again bristle free, and all around them, Meta could see other students doing likewise. There was laughter and exclamations and mockery as the disguises were revealed, and even the staff table seemed amused. Meta could have sworn there was a wide smile on her sister's face.

Then James, who had been teasing plump little Peter Pettigrew about how ridiculous he had looked with a nascent beard and breeches, stopped and frowned. He reached over and brushed Lily's shoulder, and the girl glared at him.

"Oi! What are you doing?"

James's face seemed oddly white, Meta thought, but that was probably the light. He was still brushing at Lily's back, much to her annoyance. Meta glanced at Rosemary, who had turned to grab another Chocolate Fudge Flying Cake, and realised what was probably worrying James. A wispy skull hovered a milimetre or so away from her back, and when Meta tried to brush it away, it clung to her fingers like airy candy floss before resuming its shape and fading into nothingness so rapidly that she blinked. She swallowed and looked at Lily's back, and sure enough, the skull was there too, becoming more transparent by the moment..

James's eyes met hers. "They're not the only ones," he whispered hoarsely, and they turned around and saw the skulls float, here and there. Lily and Rosemary noticed them too, and both girls yelped, but they relaxed as one by one, each of the ethereally whispy skulls vanished..

"Someone playing a stupid joke for Halloween," Rosemary said placidly as she munched through her bun. "That must've been what we felt, Lily."

Lily nodded, but her eyes were fixed on Meta and James. "She's right, isn't she?"

James tried to smile, but it looked forced, Meta thought. "Yeah. It's a joke." She could tell from the look in his eyes that he was thinking: Only we don't play jokes like that in the wizarding world...

She glanced up at the staff table. Surely someone there had noticed, and felt oddly relieved at the sight of Minerva's familiar scowl as her eyes raked the crowd. She watched as her sister leaned across to speak to the Headmaster, and then began to tap her glass for silence, her frown still in place.

The Headmaster rose in a flurry of red and white robes and spread his arms wide. "That is the end of our Magical Masque," he said formally, and the remnants of food left on the tables disappeared. "Everyone had fun, did they not, and I know I speak for all the staff when I say how very impressed we have all been by ingenuity and magical complexity of many of your disguises. Give yourselves a round of applause!"

Meta frowned as she clapped her hands. Hadn't he noticed? Hadn't Minerva told him?

Professor Dumbledore raised a hand and quiet fell at once. "I wish I could end there," he said, the ever-present twinkle gone from his eyes. "However, I cannot. I noticed in the course of the evening that a number of students thought it amusing to appear as ominous figures in black who happen to closely resemble our traditional figure of Death, or the Grim Reaper. I cannot tell you how disappointed I am that some among you could think that the news we have had this week is a cause for levity. I tell you it is not. You have been very clever, but you and your actions have been noted and my staff and I will do our best to seek you out. Do you have something to say, Miss Black?"

Bellatrix Black, a dark and intense Fifth Year Slytherin, had her hand up. "I was just wondering," she said innocently in her affected voice, "how you can be sure, Headmaster, that the joke was played by one of us? After all," she continued as Slytherins around her began to nod in agreement, "it was a Magical Masque. Anyone could have got in."

Meta shivered and waited with bated breath for Dumbledore's response. She was not disappointed.

The Headmaster smiled at the older girl in a paternal fashion, but his voice was icy cold when he spoke. "Forgive me, Miss Black, but I fear you are wrong. Do you think that I am unaware of the growing darkness of our times? Of course I am not. When we planned this evening's festivities, we were careful to ensure that the castle could not be breached at any point, known or unknown, hidden or visible. Thus I can indeed state with certainty that this disgusting joke was perpetrated by someone, or a group of someones, in this hall tonight."

"What's all the fuss about anyway," Cassandra Avery was heard to mutter. "It was just a fancy dress, for goodness sake."

Professor McGonagall was on her feet, her tall thin form rigid. "No, Miss Avery, it was not just a fancy dress." Ignoring the Headmaster as he leaned towards her to murmur something, the Deputy Headmistress flicked her wand in a quick, decisive movement, and the cloudy skulls Meta and James had seen earlier reappeared above their targets. A grim smile crossed the professor's face as a murmur of realisation went from the students, and Meta, down with the First Year Gryffindors, felt Lily grab her wrist.

"Muggles," her friend breathed. "All of us who were marked. We're Muggleborn...."

Beside her, Rosemary burst into sobs, and James, looking embarrassed, patted her awkwardly on the shoulder. "There, it's OK, it'll be OK, you'll see...."

A high-pitched and near-insane laugh came from among the Slytherins, giving the lie to his words. Meta did not know who it was. She did not want to know who it was. Suddenly the evening's fun had turned to ashes. As she helped Lily console the howling Rosemary, the snake that had taken up residence in her tummy these days was writhing and twisting, the sensation almost one of pain.

_I just wanted to enjoy school,_ she thought resentfully. _I thought my only problem would be Minerva. I wish it would all go away..._


	13. Chapter 8 part 3

May I have some feedback on this chapter as a whole, please? It's rather long – would it have been better posted as one long installment, or do you prefer the fragmented approach? Also, I wonder whether the story is becoming predictable and boring. Any ideas for what could/will happen next?

Thanks for reading!

At various points in the past fifteen years, Minerva had been amused, frustrated, exasperated and infuriated by Albus Dumbledore. The incidence of these emotions had only increased in the five years since her appointment as Deputy Headmistress, when her own intensely organised and methodical self was forced into constant contact with one to whom those words were almost an anathema. Never, however, had she been as angry with him as she was now. As soon as the students had left the Great Hall to return to their dormitories, and the staff had followed, she turned on him.

"Why didn't you do anything more?" she demanded. "They _know _you saw them, the people who played those vicious tricks, they know you saw what they did ... and you're doing nothing about it! What kind of message does that send?!"

Dumbledore looked very grave. "What would you have me do? Identify them? Brand them? Expel them?"

"Yes! Anything but nothing at all - !" She was surprised to note that she was almost shaking.

"And if I expel them, what happens then? What will they do, once they're away from these walls?"

Minerva's fury began to diminish as she realised his point. "You're afraid of what they'll do away from Hogwarts," she stated. "You're afraid that they'll contribute to the deaths and disappearances... but still, Albus, by keeping them you're risking children. Children!"

"Children who are probably better guarded and protected than anyone else in our world," he reminded her, looking grimmer than she had seen him look in the quarter century since Grindlewald's defeat. "I know it's a risk, my dear, but it's a calculated risk. By keeping them here I can watch them, protect our world to some degree, and, I hope, influence them against the paths they seem to want to take. Can you blame me for that?"

"No. Not at all... but those poor children! Did you see the looks on their faces? The muggleborns didn't really seem to understand it, but I'm certain that most of the purebloods did, and I imagine that the younger ones will not have the sense to keep quiet. There's going to be panic in the houses unless I'm much mistaken - except perhaps in Slytherin," she added bitterly. "I wouldn't be surprised if they celebrated."

"Minerva, Minerva, you must not be so prejudiced!"

"I haven't been - until tonight, but I cannot stand by and watch children being terrorised because of something they have no control over!"

The Headmaster put a hand on her shoulder. "Terrorised? That's a strong word for what amounted to little more than a cruel trick."

She gritted her teeth. "And what next? Muggleborns hexed in the halls? _More _children tortured? It's only a few weeks since Charles Diggle was crucio'd in our very courtyard. Do not fool yourself into believing that our students are as innocent as we would like them to be!"

"Believe me, I do not." The twinkle was quite gone from Dumbledore's eyes. "Perhaps I am merely - what is the Muggle saying - giving them enough rope to hang themselves with? Those responsible for the attack on Diggle have been warned. Another step out of line and I will call the Aurors in - and after that their fate is out of my hands."

"And in meantime they will still act, but do it so secretively, so cunningly, that you - even you! - will not know. When they leave school they will do the same... how does that help us, _how_?"

He raised his bushy eyebrows. "That's a very cynical attitude for a teacher, Minerva."

"I was not always a teacher," she retorted, "and I can assure you that had I been here in my capacity as an Auror, and saw what I saw tonight, I would not have hesitated to cast _Finite Incantatem_ and find those responsible before they could get away!"

"Enough!" Dumbledore snapped, causing her to start. "Enough." Suddenly he looked very old. "Our world is becoming a cloudy and dangerous place, and I do not yet know who - or what - is behind it all. Sometimes one must take risks with a few for the sake of the many."

Minerva's lips thinned into nothing at that, but she simply nodded stiffly. "Very well, Headmaster. Believe it or not, I do see your point. It is a very ... political one. I don't like it, but as your Deputy I will support you in public, and that's all you really need, isn't it?" Her tone was sharp and edged with something more than sharpness, and he frowned, but she stalked out of the hall, holding herself straighter even than she normally did.

Once the double doors of the Great Hall had closed behind her she stopped and leaned against a wall in the porch. She was shaking so violently that she wondered whether she could manage the stairs, which seemed to be moving more frenetically than ever. She had known Albus Dumbledore for most of her life, and until tonight she had always treated him with affection - even love - at best, and exasperation at worst. Never had she said such things to him before, but then never had she been so angry with him, either. For a moment she contemplated turning into a cat and escaping her human cares and anxieties in an hour or so of hunting, but she stiffened her spine and moved towards the stairs. She was probably needed in Gryffindor Tower, and Minerva McGonagall was not one to shirk her duty, even when it was one that came uneasily. Her young lions rarely confided in her, and she rarely tried to make them - but still, after seeing the looks of anxiety of the faces of some of her youngest charges, and terror on the others, she did not feel that she could do less.

"-don't need to be told who was behind it, we know," Algie Longbottom was saying as she clambered through the hole, wishing (not for the first time) that it was possible to do so with more grace.

"What's all the fuss about? I don't understand, it was just a Halloween trick, wasn't it?" Rosemary Brown was saying over and over, her voice so highly pitched that Minerva half expected her to become hysterical. Mary McDonald patted the First Year's shoulder comfortingly, but her eyes went here and there and everywhere, resting furtively on the purebloods and then flicking away again.

Minerva's gaze switched to her young sister, who was curled up in a window seat, her arms wrapped tightly around her silver tabby. Minerva's lips twitched; she had, in fact, been amused and flattered when she discovered that Meta had named her pet 'Minnie'. The girl did not look up, and seemed lost in a world of her own.

_I must try to talk to her again_, her sister thought anxiously. _Even if she doesn't want to_. She cleared her throat and silence fell almost at once.

"Are they going to be punished, Professor?" Algie asked, his mild eyes looking harder than she had ever seen them look.

Minerva bit her lip. "The Headmaster believes -" she began, but Gideon interrupted.

"That's means they won't be, or you'd have said so at once. We all know who was responsible, and after all the talk in the papers lately-"

"Professor, is it true that there's a campaign on against Muggleborns and halfbloods?" a Fourth Year asked, her question crossing Gideon's.

Losing patience, Minerva cast a quick Silencio and then glared around at them over her glasses. "Enough! You're all letting your imaginations run away with you!" How I wish they were. "Really, I thought Gryffindors would have more sense! All that happened tonight - yes, Mr Prewett, all - was a very unkind and tactless joke. No-one was hurt, or even badly frightened until, it seems, you all got back up here and started fretting! Miss Brown, if you don't stop that I shall send you to Madam Pomfrey for a sedative. Now, it is very late. Go to bed."

"You didn't answer my question," the Fourth Year murmured as he sidled past her on his way to the boys' staircase, and she ignored him. Gideon, too, was looking at her suspiciously, but she maintained her glare and even the confident prefect did not try to gainsay it. Finally, they had all trooped up to bed, and Minerva turned to leave - and found that there was still one other person in the common room.

"Meleta?"

The girl blinked. "Oh. _Oh_!" She scrambled to her feet, dropping the cat in her haste. "I'm awfully sorry, Professor, I'll go at once-"

Minerva sighed as Meta refused to meet her eyes. "Very well, child. I'll see you tomorrow."

Her young sister nodded, almost nervously, and vanished up the stairs after her room-mates, leaving Minerva standing alone. She shivered. With the fire dying down it was cold and rapidly becoming dark, turning the room into a cavern instead of the welcoming haven she had always felt it to be. She returned to her rooms and decided to take her own advice and go to bed, but between one thing and another, sleep was long in coming.

The next three weeks were strained, stretched taut by expectation rather than reality. The only odd occurence was the hijacking of the Knight Bus near Ottery St. Catchpole and the stranding of some dozen witches and wizards outside London. It could have been a lot worse, although Albus looked grave at the prospect of one of the wizarding world's only means of public transport being compromised. Minerva saw the gravity and did not press him on it; she still found it hard to forgive his refusal to follow up on the events of the Masque. However, they had to work together and she prided herself on her professionalism, so she showed little outward sign of it.

One positive aspect of the renewed peace was that the children were finally permitted to go Hogsmeade, and when it was announced at breakfast four weeks before the end of term, everyone in Third Year above visibly brightened. The First and Second Years looked more glum than ever.

"I always feel so sorry for the little ones," Pomona Sprout lamented from her place next to Minerva. "Especially with Christmas coming, they've had no chance to buy their gifts."

"They'll get the chance to go to Diagon Alley when we break up," the Deputy Headmistress reminded her.

"What about the ones who don't go home?" was the kindly Hufflepuff's rejoinder. "What will they do?"

"H'mm. Sadly I don't think we can let the lowest forms go in, Pomona. You know as well as I do that they need parental consent, and we've no hope of getting it so late in the term."

Dumbledore turned to them from where he had been conversing with Flitwick on his other side, and beamed at the Head of Hufflepuff. "Pomona has a point, Minerva. How many children are staying this holiday?"

"I haven't checked yet," his deputy admitted. "I don't usually do that until a fortnight before - you know yourself that plans can fluctuate -"

"Will little Miss McGonagall be staying?" Filius piped, hovering above his chair.

Minerva smiled and shook her head. "No. She's going home. Rosa says she was quite adamant about it."

Dumbledore had been staring fixedly at his goblet. Now he looked up with a twinkle. "I have a cunning plan. We should run a special trip to Diagon Alley for those children who are staying these holidays, and then they won't miss anything. There's plenty of time to get consent for that. I also suggest that you, Minerva, and you, Filius, do something on permanent charms and transfigurations in lessons in the next week or so."

"I can do Potions also," Horace Slughorn said from where he sat next to Flitwick. "They're usually popular. I'm having a meeting of the Sluggies tonight and I'll ask them for ideas. They're such bright young people I'm sure they'll think of something."

Minerva sniffed, but Albus beamed. "What a marvellous thought, Horace! I do commend you!" He turned back to the witches on his right hand. "There, Pomona - will those plans satisfy you?"

Professor Sprout smiled broadly. "Perfectly, Headmaster. I'm sure they'll be grateful to you. By the by, who's patrolling with them this morning?"

"Romulus and you yourself are down for this weekend," Minerva reminded her. "I'm sure I posted the notice in the staffroom."

Flitwick looked conscious. "Er, ah, well yes, you did. Only there was an - erm - minor accident."

Minerva's eyebrows reached her hairline and the tiny Charms professor continued to explain. "I had an - er - rather _interesting_ present along with my Fourth Year charms prep. I'm afraid it exploded and destroyed your notice beyond all hope of legibility."

Pomona giggled, but Minerva was less amused. "I see. It might be an idea, Filius, to discourage this kind of pranking. I really don't approve of it and it could be dangerous -"

"There's no harm in Filius having some fun with his senior forms," Albus pointed out gently.

Minerva glanced at him and went on. "-but if you _will _do so, at least let me know when something is destroyed!" She rose, pushed her chair back, and then left the table, trying to ignore Pomona's whispered, "Goodness, but she is in a bad mood this morning!" Sometimes having a cat's enhanced hearing had its disadvantages.

Nor was her poor mood alleviated when she was accosted in the porch by an annoyed owl that she recognised as being Mercury. She stopped to allow the creature to perch on her shoulder while she untied the letter from his leg, and he squawked indignantly - for an owl - when she shook her head at him.

"I'm sorry, I have no treats for you -" She stifled an exclamation when the owl nipped her ear to express his displeasure and then flew off in the direction of the Owlery.

Minerva rubbed her abused ear ruefully and frowned as she flipped the letter over and saw her name written in Rosa McGonagall's almost childishly careful script. The younger woman had never completely felt at ease with quills, and that meant that missives from her were usually rather time-consuming to decipher, and the longer they were, the worse they became. Judging from the thickness of this packet, this letter was a long one, and Minerva sighed before heading for her classroom. She had some time before her first class would be on her, and she could peruse Rosa's letter then.


End file.
